


The Care and Feeding of Earth's Mightiest Heroes

by Door



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Getting Together, JARVIS is my BFF, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 31,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Door/pseuds/Door
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane leaned forward and hugged Darcy, catching her off-guard with affection for the second time in less than a day.  “Oh, I’m so glad you said yes.  I’ll feel less ridiculous with you along.”</p><p>“Darcy Lewis: Professional Putter-of-Other-People’s-Ridiculousness-Into-Perspective.  I wonder if that qualifies as a superpower.  Let’s ask Stark.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darcy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn what's been going on in Darcy Lewis's life.

Darcy Lewis hadn’t had a specific goal in mind when she applied to be Dr. Jane Foster’s lab assistant.  She wanted a break from classrooms, and since the option of earning 6 credits in the field was available to her, it seemed foolish not to take advantage of it.  Jane’s wasn’t the only internship she applied for--nor was it the only one she got--but when she did get it, she figured, why not?  It would broaden her horizons, she told anyone who questioned the wisdom of a poli-sci major aiding a physicist.

She’d had no idea how broad her horizons could get.

At the end of it, Darcy had her 6 credits, some money in her bank account (when S.H.I.E.L.D. had offered Jane funding, they had incorrectly assumed that Darcy was receiving a stipend for her work.  She had chosen not to correct them), and the heady knowledge that humans were so, so very not alone in the universe.  And that the aliens (gods, whatever) were hot and also, you know, _bonkers_.

She also had some new friends.  When she’d begun her internship, she’d seen Jane as wooden and humorless.  Mainly because Jane was, frequently, wooden and humorless.  But then a giant Norseman had fallen out of the sky, and a whole lotta weirdness had followed.  It made Darcy look at Jane in a new light, and in the latter half of the semester, she’d even developed a fondness for the scientist.  She was serious and driven, but she was also awkward and sometimes funny and she’d fallen for an interdimensional god-alien-person, and Darcy could respect that insane level of foolishness.  They exchanged the odd email and phone call after Darcy returned to school.

And Agent Coulson had dropped in on them a few times post-S.H.I.E.L.D. involvement, and Darcy _loved_ that guy.  Not at first, of course, but when he returned her iPod, he complimented her on her music collection and there was no faster way into Darcy’s cold, black heart than that.  (“A fan of 90s chick rock, are you, Suit?” she asked.  In response, he’d quoted Letters to Cleo lyrics to her.)  

He’d even shown up at her graduation a year later and offered her a job at S.H.I.E.L.D., and she thought that was a pretty solid thing for a guy to do.  She hadn’t taken it because she already had something lined up that was, you know, actually in her field, and it had been a transparent effort on the part of a shadowy government agency she was supposed to have no knowledge of to keep a close eye on her.  But still, sweet.  He’d brought her some flowers and charmed the pants off her mom.

Not literally.

Ew.

Anyway, it was a pretty sweet note to begin her professional career on.  And then aliens invaded the island of Manhattan, and everything changed.  For everyone.


	2. The Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy sees an old friend.

Shortly before Jane went radio silent, she sent Darcy an email.  “ _I’m worried about Erik_ ,” she wrote.  “ _I was supposed to hear from him this week about a paper of mine he was proofing, and he’s late.  He’s never late.  S.H.I.E.L.D.’s not telling me anything._ ”

“ _Super weird_ ,” Darcy had responded.  “ _I can poke the Suit about it if you want._ ”  He’d given her a number she could use to get in touch with him.  She was pretty sure it was a do-not-use-unless-you-are-literally-on-fire sort of resource, but Jane was worried, and Jane wasn’t a worrier.

And then Jane had failed to respond to that email, or the two she’d sent after it.  Unlike Erik, Jane was a frequently unreliable correspondent, but Darcy had found that if you sent her enough messages, she would eventually respond with something nearly incoherent just to get you to shut up and leave her alone until she’d made whatever breakthrough she was on the verge of.  Darcy had called Erik for good measure because Jane was right--he was unfailingly polite and wouldn’t ignore your call, even if he did think you talked too much and your music was too loud and  _I don’t understand how you can reasonably call that music anyway._   But he hadn’t responded.

And with both Jane and Erik silent, Darcy got worried.  So she texted Coulson.

_“Have you had Jane and Erik kidnapped and killed?  And don’t even think about lying to me, I’ll know it if you’re lying.”_

“ _No_ ,” he texted back.

_“Just tell me you know where they are and I’ll leave you alone.”_

“ _Yes_ ,” he said, and she believed him.  A moment later, she received a second text.  “ _Be safe_ ,” it read, and then Darcy went from worried to terrified.  Coulson was, at all times, terrifyingly efficient.  The act of sending an unnecessary-- _somewhat nice_ \--two word message had Darcy convinced that the world was probably ending.

“ _Please don’t die,_ ” she wrote back.  He didn’t respond.  A day later, a wormhole opened up in the sky over Stark Tower, and the world nearly ended.

Oh, she wasn’t privy to all of the details of the attack beyond what she saw on the news, but she had a passing familiarity with what it looked like when gods and monsters decided to rain destruction down on mortals. Also, Thor was there (which made her feel a teeny bit better about not hearing from Jane.  She hoped it was because she’d been having crazy interdimensional god-alien sex), alongside Iron Man and the freaking  _Hulk_ , and neither of them were particularly known for being team players.  Plus, some kickass S.H.I.E.L.D.-y looking types and a dude in Captain America armor?

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun.  And chaos descended on the nation’s policy-makers, which meant that Darcy was right in the center of it, working as she was as a congressional aide.  There was nothing she wanted more than to hop on a train to New York and see the wreckage for herself, but that was dumb, and she knew it.  People far better equipped to deal with it than she were doing so, and she had a job and student loans to pay off and an obligation to pretend she was a freaking  _adult_ , so she stayed put and waited to hear from Jane.

She was on the verge of storming S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters herself to demand answers when she came home from work to find Jane sitting on her front stoop.  Darcy hadn’t known how desperately she’d needed to see her until she was there, but Jane wasn’t one for the mushy stuff, so she kept it light.

“Hey Doc, how’re you doing?”

Jane’s gaze whipped to Darcy and she stood.  They stood in awkward silence for a moment, and then Jane took two steps forward and enclosed Darcy in a hug.  Which was unexpected and, really, probably rather unpleasant for all involved, as it was the beginning of summer, that time of year when Washington, D.C. liked to remind its denizens that it had been something of a marsh once before they’d built a city on it and Darcy had just walked several blocks from the Metro in a cheap polyester suit.  But she was glad to see Jane alive and un-assassinated by a government agency, so she just hugged back.

“Can we go get something to drink?”  Jane asked when she was done hugging.

“Yeah, sure.  Just let me get changed.”  Darcy lived in a row house with several other aides, although the nature of their jobs ensured that she saw her roommates rarely and, in fact, was relatively certain that there were one or two she’d never met.  The point being that it wasn’t the classiest-looking place in the nation’s capital.  But then, Jane had lived in an Airstream trailer in a parking lot the last time they’d been in the same place, so she was in no position to judge.

Darcy tossed her sweaty adult uniform into a corner of her room and pulled on cut-off jeans and a t-shirt.  She emerged from her room, and Jane smiled when she saw her.  “I missed the nerdy shirts.”

Darcy glanced down.  She’d grabbed a shirt without looking.  It was grey, with Batman’s insignia emblazoned across it, and “BAM!” and “POW!” in action-y font overtop it.

“I had to leave my comics in storage when I moved.  Broke my heart.”

They left the house and started in the direction of the local dive.  “I bet it did.  How have you been, Darce?”

“Since the world nearly ended?  Pretty damn busy.  Where did S.H.I.E.L.D. hide you away?”

She felt rather than saw the look Jane shot her.  “Norway.  Figured that out, did you?”

“Well, the Suit told me you were alive, and I didn’t think he’d lie about that.  How is Erik, by the way?  Was he locked up with you?”

“Erik is...okay.  We weren’t together during the attack, but I’ve seen him since.  Darcy...”  Jane stopped walking, and Darcy turned to face her.

“Yeah?  What’s wrong?”

Jane grimaced.  “I shouldn’t tell you this.  I shouldn’t even know about it, and I’m pretty sure I’m violating one of the many serious-looking forms I signed when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. even mentioning it, but...”

Something black and cold was spreading from the pit of her stomach, and Darcy suddenly recalled that final, two word text from Coulson.  “Something happened to the Suit, right?  Something bad?”

Jane nodded, once, her expression full of pity.  She had spent the same amount of time with Coulson as Darcy had whenever he’d checked in on them in New Mexico, but while Jane usually had her head buried in notes and calculations, Darcy had chatted and bantered with him.  She knew that Darcy liked the iPod-stealing jerk.  “Darcy...he didn’t make it.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Darcy said.  She hadn’t expected that.  She thought he was hurt, maybe, probably from one of those giant alien things falling on him after he’d snarked it out of the sky, but not dead.  Men like Coulson, they didn’t die.  She felt Jane’s hand on her shoulder, and she realized that she’d sunk to the ground.  “That was...that was a shitty thing for him to do,” she managed.

“Yeah,” Jane said.


	3. Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy and Jane get drunk and make some life choices.

Not long after the invasion, Darcy quit her job and ran off to New York with Jane.  Sort of.  By way of a lot of other places first.

She and Jane had gotten blindingly drunk while Jane told her about being packed off to Norway in the night, which she should have been suspicious of but was not because S.H.I.E.L.D. had chosen a place she’d been desperate to get into for years.  Damn their clever eyes.

“Did you get to talk to him at all?  You know, your, uh...” Darcy glanced around the bar, and lowered her voice, “...ex?”

“Just once.  He called.”

“He _called?”_  Darcy was having trouble imagining the giant who’d smashed a coffee mug as a way of requesting a refill doing something as quaint as using a cell phone.

Jane smiled.  “I think Tony Stark helped.”

That made sense.  Although was somehow no less hilarious to imagine.  “So what’d he say?”

“That he was sorry he’d disappeared before, that it had been the only way to save us from L--” Jane stopped herself and did the glance-around-the-bar thing, as if S.H.I.E.L.D. might have an agent eavesdropping at the next table.  Which, knowing S.H.I.E.L.D., they did.  “From his brother.  That he was glad I was safe, and Erik was, too, but that he couldn’t see me.”

“WHAT?”  Darcy started, then lowered her voice.  “Why not?”

“Had to take the bad guy home to Dad, apparently.”

That seemed reasonable, but Jane was scowling and Darcy felt the need to be united in disgruntlement with her friend.  “I guess.”

“He did say that all of Asgard would mourn the death of the ‘Son of Coul.’”

Darcy swallowed hard.  It seemed appropriate that Coulson be mourned by a realm of god-like warrior aliens.  “Damn right.”

They fell into silence as they nursed their beers.  Suddenly, Jane groaned and let her head drop heavily onto the bar.

“Doc--?”

“I feel like an idiot.  I had almost convinced myself that I’d imagined the whole thing, and then all he has to do is call and it all comes back.”

“Wait.  Imagined what whole thing?”

Jane gestured vaguely, her face still on the bar.  “You know, the whole...thing.”

Darcy caught up.  “Ah, right.  The whole star-crossed lovers thing.”

“Shut up.”  Jane lifted her head slightly, then let it fall back to the bar.  It made a soft _thump_.  “Yes.”

Darcy leaned one arm on the bar, and set the other one on her former boss’s head.  “I was there.  I don’t think you imagined it.”

Jane groaned again.

“So what are you gonna do now?”

“Do?”

“To get your man back.”

Jane sat up, but didn’t look terribly cheered.  “I feel like a teenager.”

“What, because love is your main impetus for engaging in superscience?”

“It’s not the m--” Jane began to protest, then stopped to take a long drag of her beer.  “Yes.  I need something stronger than beer.”

Darcy waved the bartender over and ordered them a round of shots, because it seemed like the thing to do.  “Jane, if you think that ‘because it looks cool’ or ‘because it’ll get me laid’ isn’t, like, the number one reason that superscientists do anything, then you’re not a very good superscientist.”

“I’m an astrophysicist.”

“Who’s dating a god.  I think that makes you super.”

“As it happens, you are not the only one.”

Darcy and Jane turned to face the woman who’d appeared next to them at the bar.   She was wearing a terrifyingly sleek suit in a peach color that made her skin gleam like rich chocolate and shoes that likely cost every penny Darcy would earn in the next 5 years.  “Excuse me?”  Darcy asked.

“My boss has similar aims, Dr. Foster.  If you’re unhappy with your current employer, give us a call.  I think you’ll find the funding’s better in the private sector.”  The woman slid a business card across the bar toward Jane, then handed the bartender a folded bill Darcy couldn’t see (although would not doubt was in one of the larger denominations).  “For their drinks,” she told him.

She made to leave, then looked back at Jane, who was eyeing the business card like it might jump up and bite her.  “You’re free to bring your assistant, of course,” she said, and then strode out of the bar.

“Ex-assistant!” Darcy called after her, and felt marginally empowered having gotten the last word.  Sort of.  “Was it Stark?  I’m guessing Stark.”

Jane nodded mutely.  “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Decide tomorrow.  Or don’t.  But right now we’ve got essentially an unlimited bar tab, and I intend to make use of it.”

And so they had, quite foolishly, bashing gods with noble intentions and pectoral muscles which were really unfair to all of humanity when it came down to it.  At the end of the night, Darcy had bought a full bottle of scotch from behind the bar, and they’d carried it to the closest park, where she had poured it out in honor of the Suit.

She’d woken the next morning feeling like she’d been beaten over the head with Thor’s hammer with the unpronounceable name.  Mewnner?  Meoneer?  Something.  Whatever.  Dr. Jane Foster of the terrifying metabolism was already awake and munching down on the box of Pop-Tarts she unearthed in the kitchen.

“Those probably aren't mine,” Darcy informed her.

Jane shrugged.  “They’re almost expired.”

“So you’re doing us a favor.”

“Exactly.”

“You’re a good friend, Jane Foster.”

Jane smiled slightly.  “I don’t know about that.  I’m about to ask you something entirely selfish.”

Darcy held out her hand for a Pop Tart and, when she had it, broke it in half and shoved half into her mouth.  She chewed in contemplation.  “You want me to go back into the field with you,” she spoke around the Pop-Tart.

Her friend looked apologetic.  “I know it’s not your thing.”

Darcy shrugged.  “I don’t hate it, actually.  I was mostly a jerk at first when I worked with you because you’re fun to poke.  And also because--I don’t know if you’ve noticed this--I am kind of a jerk.”

“I’ve noticed,” Jane said dryly.

“Yeah, well,” Darcy shrugged.  “As for it not being my thing...well, the thing is, I don’t know that I have a thing, actually.  You know I bounced around between majors before settling on poli-sci, and I liked it, but as it turns out, politics are much more interesting in books than they are in action.  And politicians are kind of awful.  Like, 90% of the people I’ve met in this town are kind of awful.  And I like you.  You are much less awful than a politician.  I’m tired of pretending to be an adult.  I want to help you open a bridge between dimensions so you can see your god-alien boyfriend again.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do.  So, what the hell.  Let’s run away together.”

Jane laughed.

“But you tell S.H.I.E.L.D. or Stark or whoever you decide to throw your lot in with that I’m not doing this for pennies anymore.  I may be the most unqualified lab assistant a superscientist--”

“Astrophysicist,” Jane corrected.

“--has ever had, but I can do the things you need me to do, and that’s what counts.  And also I have student loan payments now.  So mama needs some cash.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”  Jane leaned forward and hugged Darcy, catching her off-guard with affection for the second time in less than a day.  “Oh, I’m so glad you said yes.  I’ll feel less ridiculous with you along.”

“Darcy Lewis: Professional Putter-of-Other-People’s-Ridiculousness-Into-Perspective.  I wonder if that qualifies as a superpower.  Let’s ask Stark.”

Which is how Darcy ended up spending 3 months traveling around the country in an RV/mobile lab with a superscientist.  And everything was peachy keen with Darcy’s world until, somewhere in the Badlands of South Dakota, they were attacked by ninjas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not take Darcy's sentiments to heart if you are a D.C.-dweller (I live quite near there, as it happens, and have all my life). There are lots of people and things to love about Washington, D.C. As it happens, Darcy has not seen any of them.


	4. Secret Agent Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy meets some ninjas (maybe).

They were probably not ninjas.  It was dark, and they were fast, and Darcy’s only previous run-in with someone actively trying to kill her was the Destroyer in New Mexico, which had not exactly been the soul of subtlety.  But they _could_ have been ninjas, and Darcy thought that if she was going to die in the dark in the endlessness of South Dakota, then it was comforting to think that it had been a ninja who’d done the deed.

They were gone nearly as quickly as they’d appeared, flying away from her in the darkness.  Flying?  They could have been flying.  Look, it was very dark in the Badlands and her only source of light was the open RV door.  She reached into that door and grabbed her taser, turning the business end towards the darkness and putting her back against the side of the RV.

“Whoever you are, I am armed!  And dangerous!  And have powerful friends!”

“Powerful friends?”  Asked a disembodied voice to her right.

She spun towards it wielding the taser, and the figure emerging from the dark raised its hands in surrender.

“Whoa!  Don’t tase me, bro!”

Almost against her will, Darcy dropped her arms in exasperation.  “Oh my god, could you have picked a staler reference?”

The figure, who she could now see was a dude holding what looked like a...bow?  And he had a quiver of arrows on his back?  What?  He stepped further into the light, and realization struck.  “It’s you.  You were with Thor and the rest in New York.  One of the S.H.I.E.L.D. guys.”

He started.  “How’d you know the S.H.I.E.L.D. thing?”

“Just a guess.  So saving the world outed you, huh?”

He looked chagrined.  “Something like that.  Name’s Hawkeye.”

She tried to stifle her laugh and just ended up snorting.  “Seriously?”  But he held her gaze and said nothing, so she shrugged it off.  “Sure, whatever, Secret Agent Man.”

He looked past her to the RV.  “Is Dr. Foster around?”

“How’d you know about the doc?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D., remember?  I just saved your butt, you know.  I can show you the pile of baddie bodies, if you like.”

She grimaced.  “No thanks.  Jane’s out taking readings.”  A thought occurred to her.  “Do you think the ninjas got to her, too?”

“Ninjas?”  Darcy nodded towards the dark, indicating the shadowy figures he’d fought off.  “Oh, right.  No, if she’s out with her equipment, then my partner’s got her.”

“The other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent from New York?  The redhead?”  He didn’t respond, which she took to be a confirmation.  “I’ve seen the footage.  Jane’s safe with her.”

“She is,” Hawkeye confirmed.

“So, uh.  You want pie?”

“You have pie?”

Darcy nodded.  “Cherry.  We bought a bunch of cherries in Montana.  I’m still using them up.”

“Yes.  Yes, I would like pie.”

“Come on in, but watch your step.  If you break anything, Jane will make you rebuild it and trust me, you don’t need that in your life.”

Darcy went into the RV and heard Hawkeye climb in after her.  She stepped around Jane’s various pieces of equipment to reach the tiny kitchenette.  She pulled the pie out of the mini-fridge and sliced wedges for herself and her spy friend.

“What is that.”

Darcy glanced towards him and saw that he was eyeing the fat cat hopping carefully towards them from the back of the vehicle.

“That’s Mjolnir.”  She’d finally mastered the pronunciation of that damn word, just in time to bestow it on a cat she'd found in a dumpster.

“Mjolnir.  You named an ancient, crippled cat after Thor’s hammer.”

“Hey, he’s not crippled!  He walks fine on the three legs he’s got.”  As she spoke, the cat tripped over a discarded cord and careened into a box.  “Sort of.  And yes.  We did.”

Hawkeye grinned at her, and it transformed his face.  “Lady, I think I like you,” he said.

“Of course you do.  Have some pie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy doesn't know the difference between a ninja and any other black-clad assailant. She's never had to classify her enemies before. It's an exciting time in the life of Darcy Lewis.
> 
> I appreciate the reviews and kudos and such y'all have been sending my way! I've been churning this out really quickly, but I'm going to post at a slower pace, just to give myself time to build a buffer and ensure I don't miss any errors.
> 
> Also, if you have never had a Montana-grown cherry, you should set out to do that at some point. I highly recommend.


	5. Super Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy discusses pie at great length.

By the time Jane returned to the RV with an assassin in tow, Hawkeye had devoured almost all of the remaining pie and earned the undying devotion of Darcy’s cat.  Which wasn’t much of a feat, if she was being honest.  Mjolnir set the bar pretty low when it came to bestowing undying devotion.

“Darcy, are you okay?  Agent Romanoff said--”  Jane broke off as she opened the door and saw the spy sitting there, pie tin in hand.  “Agent Barton, hello.”

“Oh, so she gets the real names?” Darcy asked indignantly.

“She already knew them,” said the woman who followed Jane through the door.

“Running with spies?  My gosh, Jane,” Darcy said.

“I have hidden depths,” Jane responded, setting equipment carefully atop other equipment on the built-in banquette.  “Did you finish the rest of the pie?  That was going to be my dinner!”

“It was offered to me!” Agent Hawkeye Barton protested around a mouthful of pie.

When Jane shot her a glare, Darcy raised her hands defensively.  “He had just shot a bunch of ninjas full of arrows!  It only seemed polite to offer him pie.”

“You didn’t have to eat all of it, Clint.”  Agent Romanoff grumbled, surprising Darcy.

“I have more cherries.  I can make more pie.  Seriously, it takes very little prompting to get me to make pie.  Basically, all you need to do is say ‘I like pie’ somewhere in my vicinity and I will make pie.”  Seeing that her ramble had killed the subject of pie, Darcy forged on.  “So, did you guys tangle with ninjas, too?”

“They were ninjas?”  Jane asked.

“They weren’t ninjas,” Agent Clint Hawkeye Barton rolled his eyes.

“They might have been ninjas,” Darcy responded.

“They were skilled, and deadly.”  Agent Romanoff said.  “Meaning that our information was correct, and you have been targeted.”

“What?”  Darcy asked, just as Jane demanded “By who?”

The two spies exchanged a glance.

“It doesn’t seem fair that something like the identity of someone trying to _kill us_ would be classified,”  Darcy said, interpreting the look.  “Besides, I gave you pie.”

“She did give me pie,” Barton said.

Agent Romanoff’s face didn’t change--Darcy got the feeling that it took a great deal to shake her stone face into something approaching a human expression--but she sensed that the spy’s urge to roll her eyes was a mighty one.  It was not a difficult urge to sense, as it permeated the air around Darcy on a regular basis.  “No one you would know,” she finally answered.  “Since the attack on New York, there have been some who question the wisdom of having Iron Man, the Hulk, a super-soldier, and a demi-god who can call on lightning fighting on the same team.  Or being alive at all.  Lately, they’ve gotten organized.”

“And hired ninjas, apparently,” Darcy said, and was ignored.

“It may have gotten out what Dr. Foster here is trying to accomplish--bringing Thor back,” Barton said.

“That’s not my _only_ goal,” Jane started to protest, then conceded “but yes, it’s one of them.”

“ _How_ did it get out?  We haven’t exactly been updating Facebook about our true purposes for being in the middle of nowhere,”  Darcy said.

There was a short pause.  The spies exchanged another look.

“Stark can’t keep his damn mouth shut,” Romanoff finally said.

Many things suddenly made sense.  They hadn’t ever really discussed it, but Darcy knew that Jane had weighed Stark’s offer for a while.  Funding from S.H.I.E.L.D. had continued, but without much interaction.  They hadn’t seen a Coulson replacement at any point, for which Darcy had been glad.  She wasn’t sure how she would have handled a Coulson replacement.  She could almost have believed that they’d forgotten about Jane’s research entirely, had it not been S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jane had gotten a few calls from Stark’s people (and, at one point, Stark himself, Darcy was pretty sure), and had evidently come to a conclusion, because suddenly Darcy’s salary had tripled.  She’d known there would be an increase in funding (the terrifying woman in the peach suit had told them so, after all), but she hadn’t realized it would be quite so much or that Darcy herself would so personally benefit, else she would have been a _much_ more active participant in the S.H.I.E.L.D. vs. Stark discussion.  Team Stark all the way, baby.

“So, if you’re with S.H.I.E.L.D., then why are you here?”  Darcy asked.

“We...bounce around,” Barton said.

“Ah, that’s right,” Darcy recalled, “Outed by aliens.”  They were probably a little more limited with what they could do for S.H.I.E.L.D. these days.

“Right.”

“So, what’s the plan?”  Jane asked.  “Darcy, is there any macaroni salad left over, or did Agent Barton eat that, too?”

Darcy obligingly dug the tupperware container of salad out of the fridge and handed it and a fork to Jane.  “Hungry, Agent Romanoff?”  

“I’m fine,” the woman responded.  “So, the plan now is to get you both someplace safe.”

“But my research!” Jane protested.

“I think you’ll find the plan takes your research well into account, Dr. Foster,” Barton said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went with the "Romanoff" spelling of Natasha's name here, because that's officially how they spelled it in the movies.
> 
> And just to clarify: you'll notice my version of S.H.I.E.L.D. is separate from Stark and the rest. This is informed by the comics and "Earth's Mightiest Heroes" cartoon, although they're not at odds with one another to the same extent in this story. So, separate but still friendly.


	6. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy has inane conversation with an assassin.

Tony Stark, it seemed, owned any number of vacations spots (“And we’re not talking timeshares here,” as Barton had put it), and had chosen to outfit one of them as a superscientist hideout.  Or that’s what Darcy had picked up from the conversation, anyway.  She’d had high hopes for some surf and sand, because Tony Stark, the billionaire playboy, right?  But no, as it turned out they were going north.  From South Dakota.

To Saskatchewan.

Like, the one in Canada.  Darcy clarified that point several times and each time was informed yes, the one in Canada.  That’s the only one there is.  You bet Darcy Wikipedia’d the heck out of that shit but it turned out all the other Saskatchewans were also in Canada, so she kept her discoveries to herself.

So they packed up the RV, hooked Jane’s Pinzgauer to the back, and drove north.  Clint “Stop Calling Me ‘Secret Agent Man’” Barton went ahead of them, while Natasha “You Might As Well Call Me Natasha” Romanoff stayed behind to ride with them and provide protection.  Darcy had yet to see her do her assassin thing in person, but she was fairly certain that they’d ended up with the scarier of the super spy duo.

Darcy demanded they stop at the first farmer’s market they passed in North Dakota, because if left to her own devices, Jane would probably develop scurvy.  With a cooler full of fruits and greens, they drove ever onwards to the Great White North (people called it that, right?  Whatever).

From behind her laptop screen, Darcy watched as Natasha peeled an apple with a wicked-looking knife she had produced from somewhere on her person (Darcy had no idea where it had been, but she was willing to bet there were others in similarly invisible places).  “Is that, like, a badass requirement?”  Natasha glanced at her in mute inquiry.  “Learning to do the eating-of-apples-off-of-sharp-things thing.”

The other woman glanced down at her knife, as if unaware that it looked like she could behead someone with it.  Well, that was probably an exaggeration.  Darcy recalled the footage of the Black Widow (her codename, it seemed) from the day of the attack and thought _No, I’d believe it of her._  “It is an efficient way to eat an apple.”

“Fair enough,” Darcy conceded.  “Do you eat other things with scary knives?  Like...like Babybel cheeses.  You know, the little round cheeses that come in red wax?  I’ve always wondered if villains would eat them like that.  Not that you’re a villain!  You’re just really scary.  No offense.”

“Darcy, shut up,” Jane spoke from the driver’s seat.

But Natasha actually smiled the teeniest bit.  “No offense taken.  Being scary is part of my job.”

She’d ditched the black catsuit, which Darcy thought was a shame.  If you looked like Natasha Romanoff did in a black catsuit, you almost had an obligation to wear one, right?  But she’d produced cut-off jean shorts, a worn plaid shirt, and a beat-up pair of Birkenstocks, which, combined with wire rim glasses and the scrubby ponytail she’d pulled her hair into, left her looking astonishingly nondescript and, well, not too different from Darcy or Jane.  Jane looked a bit more put-together, and Darcy was wearing a t-shirt that featured the words “Try Science!” above a simple graphic of an atom and electrons, but all in all, they blended pretty well.

No one would guess that one of them was a deadly assassin, Darcy thought.

“So, Romanoff, huh?  Any relation to the czars?”

“I doubt it,” Natasha said.

“Not secretly descended from Anastasia?”

“That’s highly unlikely, as she was shot with the rest of her family in 1917.”

“I’ve seen a convincing movie with a talking bat that argues otherwise.”

There was a short pause.  “There is a movie with a talking bat about Anastasia Romanov?”

“A _great_ one.  John Cusack, Meg Ryan, Kelsey Grammer--I can’t believe you’ve never seen it!  Where did you spend the 90s, man?”  Darcy had saved and closed the spreadsheet she’d been compiling for Jane, and was digging her external hard drive out of her bag.  She hooked it up to the laptop and gestured to Natasha to join her on the banquette.  “Come on, you’ll love this.  Well, maybe you won’t, but it’ll pass the time, and North Dakota is big and boring to look at.  Sorry you’re missing out, Jane.”

“I’ll live,” Jane said, and Darcy felt her eye roll sense tingling.

“I heard that!”

Natasha had not hated _Anastasia,_ the animated (“Not Disney, actually”) movie about the assassinated Russian princess, and had even chuckled during one of the parts with Bartok the talking bat.  Which was Darcy’s first lesson in how to entertain world-weary superhero types: show them ridiculous movies they missed while they were off saving the world.

A few hours later, with Darcy behind the wheel and David Bowie blasting from the RV’s speakers, they passed into Canada (Natasha had produced passports they had not realized they would need, which Darcy was trying not to think about, as she had never had cause to apply for one).

“Welcome to Canada, eh?”  Darcy said to her captive audience in the back of the RV as they pulled away from the border crossing.

“That was it,” Jane said,  “That was the only ‘eh’ joke you get.  I hope it was worth it, Darcy.”

“Totally was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have wanted to see a villain eat a Babybel cheese with a giant, scary knife in a movie for YEARS. Someday...someday.


	7. Mjolnir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy takes an impromptu walk in the woods.

For some reason, Darcy had assumed that all they had to do was get to Saskatchewan and they would arrive at their destination.  But of course, being as how they were going to a secret superscientist hideout, it was hidden deep, deep in the forest.  And they had to drive through most of Saskatchewan to get there.  There was a lot of Saskatchewan.

Natasha had entertained herself by watching various things Darcy had saved on her hard drive (she found _Arrested Development_ particularly enjoyable), and Darcy and Jane both worked on getting as much of Jane’s data organized as possible before they arrived at “The Compound” (as Natasha referred to it), where there were apparently other superscientists.  Jane wanted to make a good impression.

It was a surprisingly companionable drive, although the lack of stops other than to catch a few hours of sleep meant that there weren’t any opportunities for Darcy to fire up the little stove and cook.  It was her preferred method of keeping her hands busy, and she missed it.

Their last morning on the road, they were still a couple of hours away from the Compound, stopped in some anonymous Canadian wood.  Natasha had wanted to push through, but both Jane and Darcy had been exhausted and driving in the pitch darkness was more than a little terrifying, especially as Darcy was increasingly convinced that they were one dirt road away from meeting a Bigfoot.  

Darcy rolled out of her sleeping bag and nearly choked on the stale air inside the RV.  She took the half step necessary to reach the door, and opened it to breathe in some fresh.  This was apparently the opportunity that Mjolnir--who had not shown the slightest interest in the outdoors since they had taken him on back in Kansas--had been waiting for to reconnect with his wild roots.  He hopped down the steps, darted into the forest, and was gone.

Darcy was without her glasses and hazy with sleep, so her reflexes and command of language were less than could be desired.  “Cat!” she called out, “Cat gone!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Natasha said from behind her.

Darcy turned and grabbed the first sweatshirt she saw, dragged it over her head, then shoved her feet into her battered rain boots.  She nabbed her glasses from the table and, thus garbed, ran out of the RV and plunged into the woods.

She thought Natasha or Jane might have shouted something after her, but Darcy ignored them.   _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ she thought, _stupid to assume he’d be happy with life inside a tiny RV when he’d had all of everything to explore before.  Even if all of everything was just Kansas.  And he’d ended up in a dumpster behind a Denny’s._

She’d gotten so used to having him there, sitting on her feet while she collated Jane’s notes or head-butting her while she made breakfast.  He was their little superscience mascot, and even Jane, who’d rolled her eyes so mightily when Darcy had shown up with him that they’d nearly popped out of her head, had come to enjoy his gentle presence.

“Mjolnir!”  She called, then stopped to listen for him.  “Mew-mew?”  He didn’t wear a collar or bell, and it was hard to tell if she was hearing him moving around in the underbrush, or if it was some other Canadian forest creature.

“Please don’t be a Bigfoot,” she prayed aloud, to whatever deity might be out there.  “And Loki, if you’re listening, I wasn’t talking to you.  Not that I actually think you’re a god.  Come on little dude, where are you?  I don’t want to die alone in the woods talking to myself.”

She thought she heard his little chirpy meow, and followed the sound.  Behind a fallen log, Darcy found her cat, mewing helplessly.  He gazed around himself blankly, and it occurred to Darcy suddenly that he might be blind.  She knew he was quite old, but had attributed his terrible coordination to the fact that he was missing a leg.  “Oh, no wonder you ended up in a dumpster, you poor guy,” she said as she scooped him up, and he burrowed his head into her armpit.

She sat down on the log, holding him close to her chest and trying not to cry.  Which was a stupid reaction to have, but it was early and she was tired and felt so raw.

“I’m sorry, Mew-mew.  I’m sorry I didn’t know you were blind, and for putting you in a small space filled with obstacles that you couldn’t see.  I’m sorry I named you after Jane’s boyfriend’s magical hammer.  It’s a dumb name for a hammer, which makes it even dumber for a cat.”

Mjolnir flexed his paws, momentarily sinking his claws into Darcy’s legging-clad legs.

“I suppose I deserved that.  But the good news is that where we’re going, there will be lots of room for you to hop around because it’s Tony Stark, so this place has gotta be gigantic, right?  We’ll find you a science equipment-free room.  I’ll fill it with pillows and little boxes and bowls of milk, and you can have it all to yourself.  If there’s no room, then...well, then you can have mine.  I’ll sleep on the couch.  Tony Stark’s couch has got to be better than a cot in an RV, so either way, it’s a step up.”

The cat had settled in her arms and was purring loudly.  Darcy tucked him inside her sweatshirt so it would be more difficult for him to scamper away should something frighten him.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll see.  I just need to--” Darcy looked up from the soft bundle in her arms “--figure out where we are.  Shit.”

She must have gone farther from the RV than she’d realized, because all she could see in all directions were woods.  She spun in a circle, hoping she’d recognize some rock, or Natasha would magically appear from behind a tree, but no such luck.  It was just her, a blind cat, that weird thumping sound, and lots and lots of trees.

Wait.  Thumping sound?

Darcy turned in apprehension as it got closer.  “I knew it,” she said aloud, to no one in particular, “Bigfoot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy firmly believes that Bigfoots exist and will continue to do so until conclusively proven wrong.


	8. The Big Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy hitches a ride.

Years later, Darcy would describe the meeting as one in which she was completely calm.  She had a sense about these things, she’d say.  She knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

This was not the truth.  The truth was that she screamed like a sorority girl in a pillow fight.

The thumping had stopped some ways away, and Darcy thought for a moment that the Bigfoot had scented dinner elsewhere (what did Bigfoots even eat?) and wouldn’t be making an appearance.  And then it fell from the sky, big, angry, and...green?

Darcy screamed, clutched the cat to her chest, and fell backwards off her log.

The Hulk (because Darcy had seen the footage, she knew what she was looking at) roared in her general direction.  Darcy, scrambling to her feet in the underbrush, roared back.  (What?  It had worked for Brendan Frasier in _The Mummy_.  Sort of.)

Hers was not nearly as impressive, but the green giant took a half-step back, and she thought she might have startled him.

“Jesus dude, where did you _come_ from?”  She asked, desperately fighting the urge to hyperventilate.  She wasn’t really expecting an answer.  She’d seen him bash alien heads together and snatch Iron Man out of the sky, but she wasn’t sure how much higher thought he was capable of.  Or what he really was, come to it, aside from the obvious (big, green, angry).

But he snarled at her, then turned and looked to her right.  She followed his gaze and realized that there was a structure a little distance away from them.  It was a simple concrete tower, incongruous in the forest.  If it hadn’t been covered (probably deliberately, she thought) with vines and ivy, she would have noticed it right away.

“Oh, wow.  Do you live out here?”

**“No,”** he said, and she just about jumped out of her skin in surprise.

“Okay, so you can talk.  Good to know.  I’m Darcy, and this” she gestured with her head at the moving shape under her shirt “is Mjolnir.  My cat.”

He gave her an odd look, and she thought for a moment that he’d recognized the name of Thor’s hammer. **“Puny,”** said the Hulk.

“Which one of us?”

**“Both,”** he said with a smirk.

“Well, anyone who can look at me and think ‘small’ is an okay guy in my book.”  She sat back down on the stump and, after a moment’s pause, the Hulk mirrored her, sitting back on his haunches.  “I don’t suppose you know where Tony Stark’s place is, do you?  Because I am ten kinds of lost out here, dude.”

**“Metal Man.”**

“Yeah, that’s the one.  You guys are buds, right?”  The Hulk grunted, but did not contradict her.  “Well, that’s where I’m headed, so if you could point me in the right direction, we’ll get going and you can go back to...whatever it is you’re doing out here.”

_**“Smashing,”**_ he said with relish.

Darcy looked around, seeing the endless forest in a new light.  “Good place for it.  I bet you do some good smashing out here.”

Suddenly, he stood and, before she could react, swept her up in one giant hand and started running.  Darcy kept her arms firmly around Mjolnir, lest he should decide to claw his way to freedom.  She waited for the Hulk to offer an explanation, but he simply loped along in silence.

“Where are we going?” she shouted.

**“Glass house,”** he responded.

“Good enough, I guess.”  Mjolnir started purring aggressively, which Darcy thought was an odd reaction to have if you were a blind cat being carried by a person who was being carried by a...something larger than a person.  And then she realized it was the vibration of her phone, which she had apparently left in her sweatshirt pocket when she’d taken it off the night before.  She fished it out and discovered eight missed calls from Jane.  She quickly hit redial.

Natasha answered.  “Where are you.”

“Wish I could tell you, Nat.”

“Don’t move, we’ll find you.”

“Actually, I think your best bet is to continue on to Stark’s place.  I caught a ride, and I’m pretty sure that’s where we’re headed.”

There was a tight pause.  “A ride?”  Natasha asked darkly, as if trying to determine whether Darcy had been kidnapped and was communicating in code.

“Yeah,” Darcy said.  “A green one.”

The Hulk evidently wasn’t a fan of being left out of conversations. **“Quiet,”** he said.

“Sure thing, big guy.  Gotta go, Nat.  See you soon!”  She fumbled to end the call, and the Hulk chose just that moment to veer to the left.  The phone flew out of her hand and she grabbed for purchase so she wouldn’t follow it.  She craned her neck to see where it had landed, but it was gone.

“Seriously?  You’re buying me a new phone,” she said to her companion.  He gave her a look which she would swear was sardonic.  “ _Someone_ is buying me a new phone!”

And then he did the best and weirdest thing he’d done yet.  He _chuckled._

He ran for about an hour.  Periodically they’d pass a structure like the tower she’d seen, each in various states of ruin, as well as broken trees, and eventually she realized that they were traveling through an area that had been designed to let the Hulk do what he liked to do best--smashing--without risking the well-being of bystanders.  Unless they were chasing blind cats through the woods, apparently.

“So Stark built you a playground, did he?”

She was ignored.  Moments later, they emerged in a clearing in which stood a wood and glass masterpiece of modern architecture.  Exactly what someone like Tony Stark would desire for his cabin in the woods.  She was dumped unceremoniously in the driveway, and she watched in bemusement as the Hulk stomped away without a backward glance.

“Thanks for the ride!” She called after him.

“You do make friends, don’t you?”

She spun to find Agent Barton standing next to her, dressed casually in jeans and a white t-shirt with a purple bullseye on it.

“Secret Agent Man!”

His wry smile melted into a scowl.  “Stop calling me that.”

“Nope,” Darcy answered cheerfully, and let herself into Tony Stark’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna sit on this a little longer, but I really wanted you guys to see the Big Guy. Like my S.H.I.E.L.D., my Hulk is sort of a combination movie/comics/cartoon Hulk. He's capable of longer sentences, but prefers monosyllables and, above all, smashing.
> 
> Please, keep the comments coming! I love hearing what y'all think of this story.


	9. JARVIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy talks to the ceiling.

The inside of Tony Stark’s cabin was different than Darcy had thought it would be.  Surprisingly cabin-y.  Still fairly minimal, but there was brass where she’d expected chrome, warm charcoal-colored walls rather than white, and lots of wood and stone.  Comfortable, large, and clearly designed for multiple people to coexist peacefully.

She released Mjolnir from his sweatshirt prison, watched as he hopped away to explore, and made a beeline for the kitchen.  Coffee.  Surely there was coffee here, in great quantities.  She wanted all of it.

She heard Barton walk in behind her.  “Are you telling me the big guy carried you _and_ a cat through the woods?”

“Yes.  Long story.  Need coffee,” Darcy said.  Now that her brain was no longer focused on surviving her encounter with the Hulk, she recalled that she’d only caught a handful of hours of sleep the night before.  She was exhausted.  She opened cabinets until she located mugs, chose the largest one she could find, and filled it with coffee from the pot sitting in the maker.

She sipped it black, then made a face,  “Bleagh.”

“I just made that,” Barton said, “That coffee is fine.”

“Only if you have no taste.  This is Tony Freakin’ Stark’s place, he’s got better than this somewhere.”

“Miss Lewis is correct,” a polite British voice spoke up from somewhere.

“See?  The talking ceiling agrees with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me there was better stuff?”  Barton asked.

“You seemed content, Agent Barton.  I did not want to intrude.”

Darcy was digging through more cabinets.  “Aha!”  She lifted a bag above her head in triumph.  “Is this the good stuff, HAL?”

“Indeed, Miss.  And I prefer ‘JARVIS.’”

“Nice to meetcha, JARVIS.  Filters?”

“Just above you to the right.  There is also a French press and a Chemex, if you prefer either.”

“Fancy.  This’ll do me for now.  Thanks, dude.”  Darcy rinsed out the pot, retrieved a filter, and measured a generous amount of the grounds into the maker.  She pressed a couple of buttons, then let the coffee brew.  

“I take it you’ll be making use of the kitchen while you’re here?”  JARVIS inquired.

“Of this beauty?”  Darcy glanced around her.  Top of the line everything, of course, and acres of granite countertop.  “You betcha.”

“I believe Agent Barton was hoping as much.  You’ll find the refrigerator well stocked.”

Darcy opened the fridge.  It appeared that Barton had bought one of everything at the grocery--including various brands of cat food--aside from blueberries, of which there were four cartons.  Darcy looked at Barton, who shrugged sheepishly.  “Um...I like pie?”

“I can see that.  How do you feel about pancakes?”

“Very favorably.”

“JARVIS, how many people have we got here right now?”  She asked.

“In addition to Agent Barton and yourself, there is only Dr. Banner.  He is a vegetarian.”

“Good to know.  Thanks.”  She could get used to having an AI at her disposal.

Darcy opened a can of cat food, dumped some in a small bowl, and set it on the floor for Mjolnir to find.  Blind he might have been, but lost in a jungle he could find his food.  She pulled out milk, eggs, butter, and blueberries from the fridge, then hunted until she had baking powder, sugar, and salt.  She sifted the dry ingredients together into the bowl of the industrial-sized KitchenAid mixer on the counter, asking JARVIS where to find the tools she needed as she needed them.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got the world’s largest music library, do you JARVIS?”  She asked as she set the butter in the microwave to melt.

“Perhaps not the largest, Miss Lewis, but it is quite large.”

“Do you mind, Secret Agent Man?”

“For the love of god, call me Clint, would you?  And no.  Music away.”

Darcy grinned.  “Give us some Black Keys, JARVIS.”  

“[Gold on the Ceiling](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-yA8Hs4vmc)” started to play, and Darcy laughed, recalling her earlier comment about the talking ceiling.  Even Clint smiled.

“Perfect.”

When the coffee was ready, Clint poured them both mugs.  She waited until he had taken a sip, then said “You see?”

“Yeah, alright.  Why does Stark even have the other stuff?”

“I believe he keeps it for Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replied.

Darcy froze.  “Wait.  Captain like Captain _America_?”

“Yup,” Clint said.

“The guy in the Captain America get-up was actually Captain America?  Didn’t he die, like, 70 years ago?”

“Turns out he just took a nap.”

“Jeez.  I loved that guy growing up.  Or, well, the guy he was in the comics.”

“He is that guy, pretty much.”

“Aw man, I am totally gonna fan-girl when I meet him.”

“You and Coulson,” Clint said.  He tried to smile, but it looked like the effort cost him.

Darcy understood the feeling.  “Yeah.  We bonded over that once.”

Darcy had mixed the blueberries into the batter and was pouring it out onto the griddle JARVIS had directed her to.

“Why are you making them different sizes?”  Clint asked.

“Because who wants to eat pancakes that are all the same size?  Talk about boring.”

“There is a vehicle in the drive,” JARVIS informed them.

“On screen,” Clint said, and the large screen on one wall flipped on, showing Jane’s RV turning onto the gravel road.

“How long until they’re at the door?”  Darcy asked.

“Ten minutes,” Clint said.  “Why?”

“Good.  I’ve got time to make an apology latte for Jane.”  She turned the heat down underneath the pancakes and grabbed the tin of espresso she’d spotted earlier.  “I don’t suppose Stark has had any reason to keep mocha syrup?”

“Miss Potts is partial to it.  You’ll find a bottle in the pantry,”  JARVIS replied, and before she could ask where that was, a panel opened on a nearby wall and a set of shelves slid out.

“Nifty.”  Darcy pumped chocolate into a cup.

“Better make one of those for Tasha, too,” Clint said.

“Yeah?”

Clint nodded, his expression grave despite the amused look in his eyes.

“Okay.  Two apology mochas coming up.”

She steamed the milk, poured some into each cup, and then viewed her work with a critical eye.  “So I got lost in the woods and then caught a ride with the Hulk.  But I lived, right?  They’re not gonna be _that_ angry, are they?”

Clint was conspicuously silent.  “I could not say, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS said.

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has strong opinions about pancake sizes.
> 
> From this point on, I'll be name-dropping songs from time to time. If I can find a link to the song on Youtube, I'll embed it in the story!
> 
> I LOVED reading all of your reactions to the Big Guy! Rest assured, it will not be the last you see of him.


	10. Dr. Banner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy guesses correctly.

Darcy was good at apologies.  In fact, she pretty much rocked the hell out of them.  When you were as adept as she was at offending people by accident (and, let’s be honest, on purpose), you developed a knack.

When Jane and Natasha pulled into the drive, she was prepared.  There were two perfectly plated piles of blueberry pancakes (with extra miniature ones for Jane), a small pitcher of pure maple syrup, a pat of butter, and two beautiful mocha lattes sitting on the bar, waiting for them.

The door opened, and Darcy said “Hit it, JARVIS.”  “[Hello](http://youtu.be/LnET4RKXx5k)” by Martin Solveig & Dragonette pumped out of the walls.

Jane rolled her eyes, set herself down at one of the plates of pancakes, and dug in.

Natasha stood and glared at Darcy.  “JARVIS, kill the music,” she said.  The room fell silent.

Darcy nudged the latte she’d made in Natasha’s direction.  “Mocha?”

The stand-off continued another minute, then Natasha heaved a sigh and sat next to Jane at the bar.  “Don’t do that again.”

“Trust me, I am really not planning on it,” Darcy said.

Once she was convinced that Jane and Natasha were content with their meals and that Clint was topping out with his third helping, she put the pancakes in the warmer and set about fully investigating the kitchen.  “JARVIS, can you give me some low-volume ELO?”

“[Mr. Blue Sky](http://youtu.be/98P-gu_vMRc)” began to play quietly as the AI obliged.

“Best.  House.  Ever,” Darcy murmured.

A short time later, Darcy was filling a kettle with water, and Clint was challenging her on her assertion that “[Pinball Wizard](http://youtu.be/4AKbUm8GrbM)” was the greatest song recorded by The Who.

“‘[Trick of the Light](http://youtu.be/v6fFtWi318s).’  Definitely.”

“Oh, you would think that,” Darcy protested.

“This is new,” spoke an unfamiliar voice.

They turned to face the man in the doorway.  He was dressed in what Darcy thought of as “rumpled genius”: wrinkled shirt rolled to his elbows and graying hair sticking up on one side like he’d run his hand through it.  As he stood there, he pulled his glasses off and stuck them into his shirt pocket.

“Hello, Dr. Banner,” Natasha said, as Clint said “Hey, Doc.”

Jane stood and stepped around the counter, hand outstretched.  “Dr. Jane Foster, Dr. Banner.  It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Same goes, Dr. Foster.”

“Please, call me Jane.”

“Bruce.”

Jane turned to Darcy.  “My assistant, Darcy Lewis.”

Banner held out a hand, and Darcy stepped forward to take it.  “Howdy.  So, what do you think: ‘Pinball Wizard’ or ‘Trick of the Light’?”

His eyes crinkled the tiniest bit at the corners.  “I’ve always been partial to _Tommy.”_

“Ha!”  Darcy said, spinning to face Clint.  “Validation!”  She placed the kettle on the stove and switched the burner on underneath it.  “Pancakes, Dr. Banner?  They’re blueberry.”

“They’re very good,” Natasha supplied.

“Sure.  I could eat.”  He took one of the empty seats on the other side of the bar, keeping a stool between himself and Natasha.

Darcy pulled the pancakes out of the warmer and began dishing them out.  “We’ve met before,” she said, and felt the other occupants of the room still.  He wasn’t very large, which surprised Darcy.  But those shoulders...yeah, she could see it.  She smiled into cautious eyes.  “Sort of.  Thanks for the ride.”

“You met the Other Guy, huh?”

“I did,” Darcy said, and slid the plate of pancakes across the counter.

“How did--uh.  How’d that go?”

"You don't remember?"

He smiled ruefully. "Not so much."

“Well, he was very polite.”  She laughed as he paused, forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth, and raised his eyebrows at her.  “As polite as you might expect.

The kettle shrieked, and Darcy took it off the heat and pulled a teapot out of the cabinet which held the mugs.  “Bai Mudan okay?” she asked, showing Dr. Banner the tin of tea she’d chosen from the pantry.  He nodded, and she scooped the loose leaves into the pot, then poured hot water over them.  She set the pot and a cup next to his plate.

“How’d you know?”

“Process of elimination.  Everyone else drinks coffee, and I figured Stark wouldn’t have obscure Chinese teas for no reason.”  She looked up, and found everyone staring at her.  “What?  Oh!  How’d I know about the Hulk?  Same answer, minus the teas.  Process of elimination.”

“You’re really okay, Darcy?”  This from Natasha.

“Yes!  Trust me, I am not that stoic.  If the Hulk had thrown me at a tree, I would have told you.  Scout’s honor.”

“Were you actually a scout?”  Clint asked.

“Eh,”  Darcy shrugged.  “Do you go out like that a lot?  You know, big and green?”

Dr. Banner poured a measure of tea into his cup.  “Is there honey?”  There was a small container on the counter near Clint.  He picked it up and deftly tossed it to Dr. Banner.  “Thanks.  We--I’ve found that if I let the Other Guy out every once in awhile, it...takes the edge off.”

“Now that Agent Barton and I are here, we’ll be going out with you occasionally, too,” Natasha said.

Dr. Banner looked like he wanted to protest that arrangement, but Clint spoke before he could.  “It was Cap’s idea.”

The scientist began cutting into the pancakes, then looked at Jane.  “I’ll be sure to let you know when I plan to be out there, so you can avoid the area.”  Jane nodded.  He met Darcy’s eyes.  “You, too.  I don’t want anyone to feel unsafe here."

“Hey, don’t worry about me.  I liked the big guy.”  She put the rest of the pancakes on a smaller plate, dumped some syrup on top of them, snagged a knife and fork, and headed out the direction from which Dr. Banner had appeared.  “Now, if it’s cool with everyone, I’m going to go find my room and collapse.”

“Second door on the right at the top of the stairs, Miss Lewis.”

“Thanks, JARVIS.  Oh,” she looked back over her shoulder at Dr. Banner, “You do owe me a new cell phone.  Your buddy left mine back in the woods.”

Dr. Banner swallowed his mouthful of pancake.  “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” she said, and rounded the corner.

“Where did you _find_ her?”  She heard Dr. Banner ask.  Jane responded, but Darcy missed it as she climbed the stairs.

“What do you think, JARVIS?  Good first morning of making myself indispensable to the heroes and superscientists?”

“Indeed, Miss.  Although if you will allow me to make an observation...you’ve yet to meet Mr. Stark.”

“Point,” she conceded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy never made it to the Girl Scouts. She was kicked out of the Brownies for accidentally-on-purpose setting her sleeping bag on fire (it was cold).
> 
> If you're unfamiliar with The Who, "Trick of the Light" is a song about a man who mistakenly believes a hooker loves him. Classy, Clint. ("Pinball Wizard"--about a deaf, dumb, and blind boy who is a pinball savant--is clearly superior.) (I linked to those songs even though JARVIS doesn't play them because they are good and I wanted to share them.)
> 
> I think this might be a good point to describe the layout of the house, as it never really happens in the story (where I've written up to, anyway, which is Chapter 16). From the front door, the house is open. Great room (with couches, fireplace, and tv--though there are viewing screens everywhere) is to the left. The kitchen is straight ahead, and is entirely open, spanning almost the width of the house. A long bar/island with stool seating separates it from the front wall. The stove and sink are on the island, the ovens and other appliances are on the back wall. The wall to the right holds the pantry and cabinets (all hidden). To the left of the kitchen is a dining area, with a long wooden table and seating for 10. Behind the dining area (on the far left of the back kitchen wall) is the door that leads to the rest of the house, including the stairs. The ceiling above the great room is 2 stories, with skylights on the ceiling. The second floor picks up at the kitchen, with a sort of loft above that's open. Most of the action takes place in that space.


	11. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy performs alchemy.

It would be months before Darcy met Tony Stark.  In the meantime, she enjoyed the hell out of his fancy house.  As impressive as it was from the outside, the real “candy,” as Clint put it, was underneath.  That’s where Stark had stashed the labs, gyms, and a room that looked like a mechanic’s paradise (currently unused).

The “labs” were actually a single, large lab, as Stark apparently believed in collaborative science.  Or something.  Dr. Banner had had the place to himself, and had hastily condensed his sprawl when he learned Jane would be sharing it.  Darcy was still running across random notes of his from time to time.

As a lab partner, he was quiet and polite, and Darcy thought Jane often forgot he was even there.  Darcy was never quite so lucky.  She was always aware of him, in her periphery.  Only natural, she guessed, to keep tabs on the person who could, at any given moment, get big, green, and smashy.

Or so she told herself.

Darcy kept herself busy.  She’d developed a rapport with the house AI, which had come to know her music tastes so well that it would sometimes start to play a song before she thought to request it.  Which would have been spooky if it hadn’t been so damn cool.  Plus, she loved every inch of the kitchen.  Just when she thought she’d discovered every hidden nook or panel, JARVIS would helpfully point out just one more.

“I’ll say this for your boss, JARVIS,” she said one night when she came across a small cache of immersion blenders, “the man is nothing if not thorough when it comes to the acquisition of gadgets.”

“Trust me, it would be worse if he were actually here.  Then he’d be _building_ things.”  Darcy turned to find Dr. Banner standing in the doorway.  He studied her, crouched low as she was, peering into a cabinet.  “Couldn’t sleep?”

Darcy shrugged and stood.  It was probably around 3 am.  “Insomnia.  Hits sometimes.”  She stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweatshirt, which was bright yellow and proclaimed “Visit New Mexico! The Land of Enchantment!” (a coincidence of state motto that had so amused her after they’d met Thor that she’d bought shirts for Jane and Erik, too.)  It was the first time she’d been alone with him since she’d met his alter ego in the woods, and she felt oddly shy.

Of course, it could have been that he was dressed as casually as she’d ever seen him, barefoot, in sweats and a faded Stark Industries t-shirt, glasses nowhere in sight.  There was something oddly intimate about that, when she was used to seeing him in neat--albeit hopelessly rumpled--collared shirts and khakis.

“Waking up or turning in?”  She asked him.

He smiled ruefully.  “Somewhere in between, probably.”

“Did you come down for tea?”

“Yes, but please: I can make it.”

Darcy was already filling the kettle with water.  “It’s no trouble.  Unless this is your way of saying I actually make terrible tea.”

“Ah, no,” he said.  “Of course not.”

“What do you say, JARVIS?  Is Dr. Banner lying to spare my feelings?”

“Unfortunately, Miss Lewis, as I have previously stated, lie detection is not within my programmed functions.”

“I’m not lying!”  Banner laughed.

“I don’t know if I believe you...but I’m making you tea, anyway.”  Darcy grinned.  “Toss me whichever kind you’d like.”

He picked a tin of something herbal that Darcy was completely unfamiliar with.  “You do like ‘em obscure, don’t you, Doc?”  She set the kettle on the stove and set the teapot and tea to the side.

“Spice rack, please, JARVIS,” she requested.  “The big one.”  A wall panel slid aside, revealing an extensive set of tiny shelves, lined with labeled glass bottles.

“That’s...oddly medieval,” Banner said.

“It’s true, you’ve stumbled across my secret: I am an alchemist, and this is the hour of night when I attempt, yet again, to turn lead into gold.”  She selected a handful of items from the rack and moved them to the counter.  “Or, to turn seeds and flour into a proper black bread, anyway.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”  He’d settled himself on one of the bar stools.

She nodded.  “I can’t claim anything close to Natasha’s heritage, but one of my grandmothers immigrated here from Russia, and she used to make this fantastic black bread.  I’m trying to recreate it.”

“In the middle of the night?”  The kettle whistled, and Darcy poured the water over the leaves in the teapot, then set it, a cup, and a jar of honey in front of Banner.  “Thank you,” he said.

“Sure.  And yeah, why not?”  Darcy continued gathering and measuring ingredients.  “This is relaxing for me.”  She poured warm water into a small bowl, then added yeast and a pinch of sugar.  She gave it a little stir, then set it aside.  “What has you up?”

He moved his shoulders slightly, in what was not quite a shrug.  “Sometimes when I’m up late working on a problem, it’s easier to push through than sleep.”

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him.  “Please don’t tell me you were doing science in the middle of the night in sweats and no shoes.”

“Yoga, actually.”

Darcy set a saucepan containing molasses, vinegar, butter, and chocolate on the stove and switched on the burner.  “No kidding?”

He blew softly on his tea, then took a small sip.  “No kidding.  Before S.H.I.E.L.D., ah, _recruited_ me, I was in India.”

“Oh, wow.  So you learned the real stuff, huh?”

“I guess I did.”

“Are you a fan of the food?  I roomed with an Indian girl in college, and now I do a curry that’s to die for.  I bet you anything Stark’s got the spices here.”

“Are you kidding me?  That would be fantastic.”

She was combining rye and whole wheat flours in a large bowl.  She looked up at him with a smile.  “I live to serve.”  She turned the heat down under the molasses mixture, then said.  “Mortar and pestle, JARVIS?”  

The AI directed her to a low cabinet.  She fished out the tool she needed, then began grinding caraway and fennel seeds.  “I believe Mr. Stark has a mechanical spice grinder, Miss Lewis," the AI said.

“My Buscia would roll over in her grave, JARVIS.”

“Very good, Miss.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Bruce said.

“I do, actually, unless you like whole seeds in your bread.”

“I mean cook for us.  You’re Dr. Foster’s lab assistant, you’re not responsible for keeping everyone fed.”

Darcy chuckled.  “I learned on, like, day one of being Jane’s assistant that feeding her was definitely in the job description, else she’d simply science away until she starved.  You’re not much better, Doc, when you get caught up in something.”  She glanced at him, then went back to adding ingredients to the bowl of the mixer.  “Plus, we both know that my position with Jane has as much to do with emotional support as it does with keeping her notes organized--although I am damn good at both.”

She switched the mixer on briefly, just to combine the flour and seeds, then poured the melted molasses and yeast mixtures over top of them.  The mixer went back on, and while it hummed away, she returned to the conversation.

“Everyone here has a calling; a mission.  Clint and Natasha gather and analyze information, monitor the property, and lurk in corners in a way that is totally not creepy at _all_.  You and Jane have your projects, and they’re pretty much all-consuming.  I can pitch in with some stuff, but I’m no scientist.”

“Darcy,” Banner said (and she was pretty sure it was the first time he’d called her by her first name) as she turned down the mixer to add more flour, “You are doing science.  Right now.”

“I told you, I prefer ‘Alchemy.’”

“You’re not going to budge on this, are you?”

“Probably not.”  She spread flour across an empty section of counter, and turned the dough out of the bowl and onto the surface.  “Dr. Banner, you’ve spent more than 10 minutes in my presence.  Do you honestly thinking I’d be doing this without complaint if I didn’t want to?  JARVIS would tell you so if Stark had had the foresight to make him a lie detector.”

“An oversight I will be sure to mention to Mr. Stark, Miss Lewis,” the AI put in.

“You’re a peach, J.”  She shoved her sleeves to her elbows and began kneading the dough.  “I don’t have a Cinderella complex, Doc.  I’m not moping around feeling underappreciated.  So no worries on that count, okay?”

He nodded over his tea.

“If you’d rather I didn’t brew your tea or make you a sandwich when I make one for Jane, that’s totally cool.  I get it.  I was a barista for, like, a decade and now I don’t like anyone else making my lattes.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Good, then,” she said with a smile, before returning to the bread.  She formed her dough into a ball and set it in a large bowl, which she covered with a tea towel and set aside where it wouldn’t likely be disturbed.

"So, a decade as a barista, huh?"

Darcy gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Among other things. It paid the bills, and I picked up some things."

JARVIS chose just that moment to begin playing the chorus of Sheryl Crow’s “[If It Makes You Happy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dyihQtBes1I).”

Bruce glanced at the ceiling, startled.  “Since when does he do that?”

Darcy felt herself blush.  “Yeah, sorry.  I might have accidentally taught him subtext.  That’s enough, JARVIS.”  The music faded away.  She started piling bowls and measuring cups in the sink, then held out her hand for Banner’s empty tea cup.

He held it back.  “Will you at least let me do the dishes?”

She looked around at the mighty mess she’d made and grinned with a shrug.  “Hey, if you’re volunteering...”

“Insisting.”

“Go for it, Dr. Banner.”

“You can call me Bruce, you know,” he said as he rounded the island.

Her earlier shyness had fled once she’d had the bread to occupy her and the physical presence of the kitchen island between them, but now it came flooding back.  “Are we insomnia buddies now?  Because that is my _favorite_ kind of buddy.”

He smiled slightly as he filled the sink with soapy water.  “Get some sleep, Darcy.”

“I think I will,” she said, and started for the stairs.  She turned back when she reached the door.  “Hey, Dr.--Bruce.  Thanks.  For the company, I mean.  You’re welcome to watch me bake in the middle of the night anytime.”  She paused and blinked, letting the statement sink in.

Bruce started to chuckle.

“Hell with it,” she said, and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has been harping about that lie detector thing for like a month.
> 
> The bread Darcy is baking is a Smitten Kitchen recipe. Just look up black bread on her site if you're interested! I've never made it, but I love black bread and have a deep admiration for someone who can handle a recipe which contains something like 300 ingredients.
> 
> I wrote this a couple weeks ago, but am ironically posting it during my own bout of insomnia. Symmetry!


	12. Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy slices an avocado.

About a month into their stay in Saskatchewan, Darcy called a halt to the science.  She knew that Jane and Bruce saw their work as a calling rather than a 9-5 type of job, but enough was enough.  They were having a day off.  Both doctors submitted without too much complaint, mainly, Darcy thought, because they were ridiculously sleep-deprived.  She shooed them from the lab, and had JARVIS lock it behind them.

“And no emergencies!  Don’t let them sweet talk their way around you with science emergencies, J.”

“If you could specify under which conditions Drs. Banner and Foster should not be granted admission--”

“None of them!  All of them!  And if you spot them doing science outside the lab, please reprimand them.  And threaten them with my wrath.”

“Very good, Miss Lewis.”

Any morning which involved three people (well, two people and an AI) doing what she said was bound to start the day off right, so Darcy was in a pretty good mood.  She discovered that JARVIS had the entire Veruca Salt discography in his endless record collection, so she set herself up in the great room, “[Volcano Girls](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyVSKydUxKk)” playing, cat on her feet, and the newest issue of _Wonder Woman_ on her tablet (it turned out that when Tony Stark built a superscience secret hideout, he also filled it with random pieces of Stark Tech, and there were, like, 20 tablets no one was using, sooo...).

It was beautiful outside, and around lunchtime she started thinking idly of taking a walk in the woods when the Hulk casually strolled past the front windows.

“Maybe I’ll just stay in here, hmm, Mew?”  The cat chirped in reply.  “And maybe open a window to let in some fresh air?  Can the amazing Super House do that, JARVIS?”

In response, one of the skylights overhead slid open.  Darcy asked JARVIS to switch off the music so she could listen to the outdoors.  There was an insane amount of birdsong, and it was actually really nice.

Darcy shifted Mjolnir off of her and moved into the kitchen.  She rummaged around in the fridge until she’d unearthed an avocado, then sliced it in half using the serrated edge of a cake spatula.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”  Clint asked as he dropped down from the balcony of the floor above.  Darcy screamed and threw half the avocado at his head.  (She may have gotten away with lying about screaming at the Hulk, but as this one happened in a Stark house, everything was caught on camera, Clint was able to get the file from JARVIS--the traitor--and as a result, Darcy had to relive the moment on a regular basis for basically the rest of her life.)

“Great Galloping Hera, Clint, what is _wrong_ with you?”  She gasped out, pressing her palm to her chest in a vain effort to calm her racing heart.  But before she could accomplish _that_ , there was a rumbling beneath the house and the next thing she knew, the Hulk was looking in through the skylight.  And he was _roaring_.

Darcy ran for the door.  “Damn it, Lewis,” Clint made a grab for her as she passed, but she actually managed to evade him.

“JARVIS, open the door!”

“Miss Lewis, it behooves me to point out--”  The Hulk was beginning to slam a fist on the house, and although Darcy had no doubt that Stark had done his best to Hulk-proof the place, she wasn’t really in the mood to conduct structural trials.

“JARVIS!”

The door slid open, and Darcy darted out.

“Hey!  Hey, Buddy!”  Darcy wasn’t sure what to call him.  Bruce called him “The Other Guy,” but she had no idea how he thought of himself.  She waved her arms in an attempt to draw his attention away from the house.  “Big Guy!”

He stopped pounding and took a step back. **“Puny,”** he said.

Darcy smiled, she was so relieved.  “Yeah.  Yeah, that’s me.  The puny one.”

**“Scream?”**

“What?  Oh yeah, I guess I did scream.  But I’m okay, I promise!  Clint just startled me.”  Clint, who had stepped into the doorway, gave a weak wave.

**“Archer,”** the Hulk growled.

“Hi, there.”

The Hulk huffed in what sounded like disgust, and turned back towards the forest.  He was about halfway across the clearing when Darcy shook off her stupor and ran after him.

“Hold on!  Wait!”  And then, because her brain had apparently entirely vacated her head, Darcy threw the avocado half she still held at him.  It connected with his shoulder, and he turned with a snarl.   _Shit_.  “I just wanted to say thank you.  You came when I screamed, and I really appreciate it.  It’s nice to know I can count on you, Hulk.”

**“Hulk smash.”**

“Yeah.  If I’d really been in danger, I would have been totally, 100% okay with you smashing.”

He studied her for a moment, and Darcy did her damnedest not to twitch.  Then, he nodded once, and loped back into the woods.

She returned to the house, feeling like she’d just run a marathon.  Clint was still standing in the doorway, and Natasha appeared at his side, melting out of the shadows.  She was armed, and looking pretty damn dangerous.

“That was stupid,” Natasha said.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, “but interesting.”

Darcy ignored them both. "That was a good avocado," she muttered. "I had _plans_ for that avocado."

"There are other avocados," Clint said.

Darcy ignored him.

"We need to talk," Natasha said, in a tone that practically screamed LECTURE AHEAD. "If you're going to rush headlong into dangerous situations--"

"--which I'm not doing on purpose, I swear."

"--then you need to learn how to defend yourself," Natasha finished, as if Darcy had never spoken.

"I do, it's called a taser."

"Which doesn't do you any good when you don't have it," Natasha said.

"And it especially wouldn't do you any good against the Hulk," Clint put in.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but there isn't a damn thing I _could_ do against the Hulk."

"You could run away," Natasha said.

"No. No, no, no.  No training! I'm really great at staying out of danger, please don't make me run a mile."

Natasha gave her a stony look. "You just faced off against what is probably the most dangerous creature on the face of the Earth--"

"--and you threw an avocado at him," Clint said.

"It's really creepy when you guys finish each other's sentences."

"Sorry," Clint said. He didn't sound sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm far from the first to do the whole "Natasha teaches Darcy to fight" thing, but I love it, so here you go. For what it's worth, Darcy is never going to be GOOD at fighting. But she might come away with a passable right hook.


	13. Training Montage

If Darcy’s life had been a movie, this would be the part with the training montage.  In fact, she wished mightily that it was a movie.  Because, as it turned out, training was _hard_.

Not that she’d really expected otherwise, seeing as she’d chosen (not really. At all) two of the world’s deadliest assassins as her personal trainers.

“So, how did you learn to do that thing with avocados?”  Clint asked one day as he watched Darcy and Natasha spar (read: Darcy flail in Natasha’s general direction).

“Now? _Seriously?”_   

Clint shrugged.  “Sure.  You’re doing fine.”

Darcy shot him an incredulous look, and Natasha took the opportunity to knock her on her ass.  “Hey!  I’m supposed to be hitting _you.”_

“So hit me,” came the implacable reply.

Darcy struggled back to her feet.  “I hate you both.”

“Seriously, did your folks own a restaurant or something?”

“Are you fishing for my tragic backstory, Barton?  Because I’m willing to bet JARVIS’s entire music library that S.H.I.E.L.D. has every boring detail of my life somewhere in its files.”

She saw him shrug out of the corner of her eye as she swung a gloved fist wildly at Natasta.  “Been too busy to read up on you.”

She thought that was probably definitely a lie, but she humored him.  “Fine.  No.  No restaurant, but I come from a long line of bakers.”

“Kick,” Natasha instructed, and she obeyed.

“Mine’s a big family, so growing up we all had to pitch in with dinner and stuff.  And I’m the youngest kid, and my parents didn’t have much money to begin with, so I’ve basically worked just about every service industry job you can think of to save money for school. _Fat lot of good it did me,”_ she muttered under her breath.  

She lunged forward at Natasha’s urging, and got in what she thought was a solid left hook.  “I learned the avocado trick at a taco joint I worked at in college.  Use the jagged side of a cake spatula to open the outside of the avocado, and the smooth side to slice the inside.  The rounded end makes scooping out the slices easy.  Store any of the avocado you don’t use with the pit.  Keeps it fresher.”

“You are just full of useful facts,” Clint said.

“Aren’t I just?”  Darcy landed a final kick on one of Natasha’s padded gloves.

“Good,” Natasha said, stepping back.

Darcy leaned forward, hands on her knees, breathing hard.  “So what was the point of the backstory?  I know there was one.”

Clint smirked.  “Distracted you.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Darcy snapped

“That was your best session yet,” Natasha said.

Darcy looked up at her in shock.  “Are you kidding me?”

“No.  Talking seems to focus your mind.”

Well, how about that.  “Shows what you knew, every teacher I ever had ever.”

Clint pulled out his collapsible bow from somewhere behind him and opened it with a flick of his wrist.  “You wanna hit things with arrows now?”

She wanted to remove her arms at the shoulders so that she might never feel them again.  She really didn’t want to hit things with arrows.  Especially since it wasn’t really a part of the regimen that Natasha had built for her.  But Clint’s face looked so hopeful, and she couldn’t say no.  “Fine.  Let’s hit things with arrows.”

“Excellent.”

Darcy was not very good at hitting things with arrows.  Well, she hit things, just not generally what she was aiming for.  Or anything near them.  But she was noticeably _less bad_ at missing the things she’d aimed for than she had been when she’d started with the bow, so that was something, right?

She finally managed to snag the edge of a target with one of her arrows, a feat which caused Darcy to squeal in delight and JARVIS to play “[Eye of the Tiger](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgSMxY6asoE).”  “JARVIS, if you had hands, I would be _high-fiving all of them.”_

“The sentiment is appreciated, Miss.”

“Still got a long way to go, grasshopper,” Clint said.

“Shut up, Barton.  I hit a _thing_ with an _arrow._  I’m done for the day.”

She grabbed a shower, then returned to the lab where she inadvertently interrupted a phone call between Bruce and Stark.

“--I think so, yes,” Bruce was saying as she entered.  He didn’t glance up at her.  “Uh, yes.  Yes, that’s what it looks like.”

Jane had vanished to somewhere, but she’d left a small pile of things that needed typing up, so Darcy set about doing that.  While she was typing, a text message from Jane appeared on her phone (Bruce hadn’t replaced it so much as stolen one of Stark’s spares he’d found, so it was pretty much the coolest phone she’d ever owned).

 _“Out at the Rock,”_ the message read.   _“Forgot the portable spectroradiometer.”_  Darcy was pretty sure the thing she was referring to was a black box.  It was around somewhere.   _“Bring it out?  Aurora Borealis tonight.”_  The Rock was how they’d taken to referring to the nearby rocky outcropping which offered the best views of the night sky.

Darcy checked the time and realized that it had, in fact, gotten dark.  She’d lost track of time at the gym.  No wonder Jane was already gone. _“Sure thing,”_ she responded, and hunted up the black box.

She was walking out when she heard Bruce say, “It was just here.  Hold on, Tony.  Jane’s out, but she left the spectrometer readings for me to look over.”  He was digging through a pile of papers to the right of his tablet on the lab bench, when the readings were clearly sitting to his left.

Darcy rolled her eyes, walked over, and slid the pages he needed across the bench until they sat on top of the tablet.  He looked up at her in surprise, and she nodded significantly at the papers.  He followed her gaze, nodded in thanks, and said “Here we go.  Darcy found them.”

She turned to leave, but stopped when she heard an insistent _tap-tap-tap._  She looked back, and found Bruce tapping his finger on the bench.  When she met his eyes, he held up the finger, mutely asking her to wait.  Curious, she did.

“What?  What do you mean ‘Who’s Darcy?’  She’s Jane’s--yes.  I told you.”  Banner rolled his eyes, and Darcy felt an immediate kinship with Stark, a fellow inspirer-of-eye-rolls.  “You could just come out and meet her.  Wasn’t that the reason you built this--what?  I am not going to tell--”  He glanced at her and then quickly away, and Darcy would swear he’d blushed.  “No.  I will not.  Ask JARVIS, then.”  He looked back at her, and mouthed _Sorry._  “You’re acting like a child.  I’m going now.”  He removed the earpiece she hadn’t noticed he was wearing and turned to her.

“Darcy, I’m sorry.  I just wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh.  You’re welcome.”

“Have you been organizing things in here?”

“I--was that okay?  Not everything, just a few things I came across.”

He shook his head in bemusement.  “I didn’t even notice.”

“Oh.  Good?”

He laughed.  “You must really have my system down.”

She shrugged.  “It wasn’t too difficult.  Jane’s system is way weirder.  Speaking of, I really ought to...” she gestured with the device she held.

“Oh, of course.  Don’t let me keep you.”

“Night, Bruce.”

“Good night, Darcy.”

She started to leave, then turned back.  “You should come out with me.”

His head whipped up.  “Pardon?”

“To Observation Rock.”

“To Observation--oh, where Jane’s set up her equipment?”

“Yeah.  She says we’ll see the Northern Lights tonight.  Have you ever seen them?”

Bruce nodded.

“Well, I haven’t, so it’s an event.  Come on, then.  Get your coat.”

He followed her out of the lab, and she rousted Clint and Natasha from where they sat glued to tablets on the couch in the great room while Bruce found his coat.

“Review reports later.  Northern Lights now.”  Mjolnir, who had pretty much claimed Clint as his own at that point, protested sleepily as he was moved from the archer’s lap.

They trekked out to Observation Rock.  Jane said nothing when Darcy showed up with an entourage, but merely held out her hand for the equipment Darcy had brought along.  A moment later, she called Bruce over and asked for his opinion on something.

Darcy stuck her hands in her pockets and watched the sky.  She and Jane had been to a lot of remote places in search of clear skies, but she’d never seen night skies like Saskatchewan had.  She spotted a bit of green on the horizon.

“Guys,” she said, “3 o’clock.”  As they watched, that little bit of green slowly spread, and then, all of a sudden, stretched across the sky like a river above their heads.

“Whoa,” Clint said, and Darcy felt herself nod.

“Darcy, quick, hand me the--”  Jane trailed off, as she often did, hand grasping for something.  Darcy saw what she was reaching for and handed it over.  Her hands were colder than she realized, however, and she fumbled the equipment.

She could see the Jane lecture looming in her future, but before she managed to actually drop the thing, a pair of large hands caught it.  They were warm, and enveloped hers entirely.  She glanced up, meeting Bruce’s eyes, which were even warmer than his hands somehow.  “Thanks, Doc.”  She handed Jane her equipment, then stepped back.

They stood in the cold for an hour, watching the lights and taking notes and readings.  Clint and Natasha headed back first.  Darcy thought that Clint might have had his arm around Natasha’s shoulders for a while there in the dark, which was unutterably sweet.

Bruce stayed for the duration, and helped them pack up equipment and carry it back to the house.  Once everything was stowed, Darcy retrieved the cat from his place on the couch, and carried him up to her room.  She set him in his bed, and he curled up without protest.  She shut the door behind her, and was quiet as she peeled off her coat.

“So,” she said to the room, “that’s an interesting development.”

JARVIS began to play “[A Whole New World](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kl4hJ4j48s&feature=youtu.be&t=40s).”

“Oh, shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, they tell you to write what you know. What I know is a whole lot about how to slice avocados.
> 
> I can't tell you how happy it makes me that y'all loved the previous chapter. I have an odd sense of humor, so I'm never really sure whether something I find hilarious (people throwing avocados at the Hulk, avocados in general) is going to translate, but I'm SO glad this did. Reading your comments and reactions has had me chuckling for days--thank you!


	14. Field Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy reacts to yet another situation with pie.

“Did you see the message from Cap?”  Clint asked Natasha over eggs Benedict one morning.

She grunted in an affirmative fashion.

“It’ll be nice to see Steve again,” Bruce said, setting his tea cup carefully down.

“Wait--what?”  Darcy asked from the kitchen.  “See?  You mean he’s coming here?”

Bruce nodded.  “That was the plan all along.  The reason why Tony built this place.”

“You mean it wasn’t intended as a retreat for you to do science and hulk out in peace?”

Bruce made an amused sound.  “Not quite.  Although it’s served that purpose well.”

“After New York, we were all thrust into the public eye--whether we wanted it or not,” Natasha explained.

“Right,” Darcy said, taking her usual seat next to Jane at the table.  “You were outed by aliens.”

“Stop _saying_ that,” Clint griped.

“No,” Darcy said, sipping her latte.

Bruce forged on.  “Tony thought it would be useful if we were prepared to work as a team again, should the need ever arise.”

“So he built you a training facility in the wilds of Canada.  Naturally,” Darcy said.

“I think the original intent was for us to use Stark Tower, actually,” Bruce said, “but New York was pretty hot immediately following the attack, and Director Fury implied it might be best if we laid low for a bit.”

“Who’s Director Fury?” Darcy asked.

Natasha leveled a glare at Bruce, but said nothing.

“Head of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Jane said, piping up for the first time.  She glanced up from the tablet she’d been studying and shrugged when Natasha hit her with the same glare.  “What?  It’s not like she wasn’t going to hear the name, living in this house.”

“Fine,” Natasha allowed in a begrudging tone.

“So is Stark the leader of your merry band?” Darcy asked, skating smoothly past the tension.

Clint barked out a laugh.  “Ha!  No.”

Even Bruce chuckled.  “That would be Steve, most likely.  But he stayed behind to help with the clean-up.  He’s the most recognizable and, erm,” he paused to consider his words, “ _sympathetic_ of our lot.”

“People like Cap,” Clint said.

“People like Tony Stark,” Darcy said.

Again sounds of amusement surrounded her.  Apparently the man was as eccentric in person as he came across to the media.  Darcy had wondered.

“People tolerate Stark,” Natasha said.  “They trust Captain Rogers.”

Darcy glanced at Bruce.  He shrugged and gave her a sad little smile.  No one suggested that the Hulk pitch in (although he would have probably been the most useful in terms of hauling heavy stuff).

“So when will he get here?”  she asked.

Clint shrugged.  “Tomorrow, I think.”

“Tomorrow?  Tomorrow!” Darcy stood abruptly.

“Ye-es,” Clint drawled.

She spun towards the kitchen.  “JARVIS, do we have apples?”

“We do, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS replied calmly.

“How many?” She asked, even as she started counting the apples sitting in the fruit basket.

“We have eight, I believe.”

“Eight!  That’s not nearly enough.  Jane, I need the morning off to buy apples,” Darcy said.

Jane shrugged placidly and continued to sip her coffee.

“Why the sudden need to buy apples?” Bruce asked.

Darcy gave him an incredulous look.  “Captain America is coming.   _Here,”_ she emphasized, in case that wasn’t clear.

“Yes,” Bruce said.

“I have to bake him a pie.  I have to bake him all of the pies.”

“You mean he doesn’t even need to ask?” Clint said.

Darcy gave him a look which she hoped conveyed the level of _Duh_ that question deserved.

“You can’t go into town on your own,” Natasha said.

Darcy had learned the futility of arguing with Natasha on this, so she simply looked at the table, eyebrows raised, waiting for a volunteer.

“I’ll take you,” Bruce spoke up.   _Well.  Wasn’t expecting that one._

Apparently Natasha hadn’t been either, since Darcy actually saw her surprise.  “Oh,” she said, clearly weighing the wisdom of that.  Bruce could certainly protect Darcy, should some threat come her way, but in doing so, he would torpedo their anonymity.  But Bruce would have considered all of that before offering, so she agreed.  “Okay.  If you don’t mind, Bruce.”

“I don’t,” he said.

“Alright, field trip!” Darcy hurried to the fridge to make a list of other things they needed.

“Is no one else bothered by the unfair pie policy in place here?” Clint asked.  He was ignored.

The closest town was an hour away, and even calling it a “town” was a pretty extreme exaggeration as far as Darcy was concerned.  But it contained a serviceable market, and seemed to be populated with people who were uninterested in the weirdos who chose to live in the woods.  Darcy and Bruce took Jane’s Pinzgauer, as it handled the uneven forest roads with ease, and was filled with enough equipment to sell the partially-true “We’re just a bunch of eccentric scientists, honestly” cover story.

Darcy hooked up her ipod and started one of her many, many _(many)_ on-the-road playlists.  “[The Cave](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3KkUeRPjc-Y)” by Mumford & Sons played as they trundled through the woods.

“If you’ve got any favorites, Doc, feel free to queue ‘em up.  My library is nothing to JARVIS’s, but, well,” she turned and gave him a proud grin, “it’s still pretty great.”

“I believe it,” Bruce said, and complied with her suggestion.  When “The Cave” came to an end, Simon & Garfunkel’s “[Boxer](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzUEL7vw60U)” started up.

“That is a solid choice,” Darcy said.  “I approve.”  She was driving, which gave her a convenient thing to focus on other than him, and the ridiculously inconvenient crush she’d apparently developed on him.  On the much older scientist with the most destructive case of multiple personality disorder she’d ever heard of.  She sure knew how to pick ‘em.

Bruce cleared his throat.  “So, music, huh?”

Darcy glanced at him in amused question.

“You like it,” he finished.

“I do.  I’m absolute crap at creating it, so I decided one day that I’d just absorb as much into my person as I could.  I think I’m doing pretty well so far.”

“You’ve certainly got an appreciation for variety.  With Tony, it’s all metal, all the time.”

“Seriously?” she asked.  “I wouldn’t have guessed that.  Although...” she trailed off.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s just that your...the Other Guy.  He called Tony ‘Metal Man.’  I assumed he meant the metal suit, but you never know.”

Bruce made a dubious sound.  “That’s probably giving him more credit than he’s due.”

“Hey,” Darcy laughed, “Don’t insult my friend’s intelligence.”

“Your friend?”

She shrugged.  “Sure.  He’s been nothing but nice to me.  Even tried to save me.”

“By pounding on the house _while you were inside it.”_

“His intentions were good, though.”

“Intentions don’t mean a damn thing,” Bruce said, sounding as jaded as she’d ever heard him.

“I think you’re wrong,” Darcy said, turning to meet his eyes.  “I think that when it comes to the Hulk, intentions are everything.”

“Darcy,” Bruce said.  “Please be careful.”  She got the sense he was talking about more than just the Hulk.

“‘Course,” she said, “I’m your friend, too, Bruce.”

“I know,” he said, sounding pained.

“It’s not the end of the world, you know.”  She turned her head a little to meet his eyes.  “Having friends.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yeah.  So’s knitting, if you lack coordination.  We’re all here because we _want_ to be.”

There was a small pause.  “Even you?”

Darcy laughed, and ignored the small lurch in the general vicinity of her heart.  “Bruce Banner, have you learned nothing in the months you’ve known me?  There’s not a force in the ‘verse that could keep me here if I wanted to be elsewhere.”  She grinned at him.  “Not even the vaunted Director Fury.”

Bruce smiled reluctantly at that.  “I’m not sure that’s true.  But the sentiment is appreciated.”  She held his gaze for a moment, until she felt her cheeks start to heat, then whipped her gaze back to the road (no Bigfoots in sight).

They drove in silence, music quietly playing in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll be happy to know that the shopping trip went smoothly, and the Hulk did not end up leveling a tiny Canadian town.
> 
> After all of the love JARVIS has been getting, I'm sort of sorry that this chapter has so little of him! I'm thrilled that y'all enjoy their dynamic as much as I do.
> 
> I also really appreciate the feedback I've gotten about the music! I couldn't decide whether including links was self-indulgent on my part or not, so I'm so glad they're working for folks. When we get to the end, I'll post the link to the ever-growing Spotify playlist that serves as the soundtrack to this story.


	15. Captain America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy meets the Cap.

Captain America arrived on a motorcycle that looked nearly as old as he was.  Darcy was focused on her pies (and not hyperventilating.  Mostly not hyperventilating, honestly), but she overheard the others as they greeted him.

Even Jane had emerged from her lab to meet the man himself.  “Did you ride your bike all the way from New York?”  Darcy heard her boss ask him.

Captain Rogers chuckled.  “No, ma’am.  The bike and I flew into La Ronge and I rode from there.”

Darcy pulled a pie out of the oven, set it on the counter to cool, and risked a peek at the group near the door.  Bruce was smiling warmly at Rogers and shaking his hand.

“Good to see you, Steve,” he was saying.

“Likewise, Bruce.  How’ve you been?”

“Great.”

“Really?”  Rogers asked, and Darcy could hear the sincere concern in his voice.

“Yeah,” Bruce answered, “really.”

The captain grinned widely.  “That’s great!  This is quite a place you all have here.”

“Tony,” was the only explanation Bruce offered, and it seemed to suffice.

“Where _is_ Stark?” asked Natasha.  “Weren’t you supposed to fly in together?”

“We were,” Rogers said.  “But Tony was unavailable.”

Natasha frowned, as if this explanation was wholly unexpected.  “We’ll work around his absence.”

The group had moved far enough into the house for Rogers to notice Darcy, standing in the kitchen, nervously wiping sweaty palms on her jeans.  Rogers gave her a polite smile.  “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said.

“No,” Darcy managed, then abruptly ran out of words.

Clint laughed.  “My god, Cap, you’ve struck her speechless.  If I’d known that’s what it took, I’d’ve gotten you out here months ago.”

Rogers held out a hand.  “Captain Steve Rogers, ma’am.  At your service.”

“Darcy Lewis,” Darcy said, but couldn’t bring herself to take his hand.  Instead, she nudged the pie towards him.  “Pie?”

Rogers focused on it.  “Is that apple?”  

Darcy nodded weakly, then cut him a slice.  

“I do love apple pie,” Rogers said as he accepted the slice Darcy offered him.  He forked a bite into his mouth, then froze.  He swallowed, and asked “Did you make this?”

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, I don’t mind telling you, this is the best apple pie I have had since my grandmother passed, God rest her.”

“Really?”  Darcy asked, and her voice sounded thready to her own ears.

“The Captain doesn’t lie, Darcy,” Bruce said, his voice thick with amusement.

She was too numb to react to being laughed at.  “There’s lots more,” she said.  “Please, eat.  Not you,” she snapped at Clint as he moved towards the pie.

“Hey!”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Rogers said.  Fully distracted by his teammates and pie, he took that arresting gaze off of her.  Darcy took the opportunity to flee.

Bruce found her a while later, lying on her back on Observation Rock.  “How’d you know?”  Darcy asked.

“Jane let it slip you come out here sometimes.  Permission to come aboard?” he called from below.  She waved a hand, and he joined her on the Rock.

“How much of an ass did I make of myself?” Darcy asked after they’d sat in silence for a few minutes.  “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but honestly, it’s mostly a blur.”

“Darcy, you were charming.”

She snorted.  “I highly doubt that.”

“You were.  And with a little help from Clint, the Captain ate three pies, so you knocked that one out of the park.”

She levered herself up on her elbows and grinned.  “Really?  He liked them?”

Bruce shot her a sardonic look.  “You’re a fantastic cook.  Of course he liked them.”

“It’s just--I mean...” she leaned fully back, looking up at the sky.  “It’s Captain America.  The real Captain America.”

“You grew up reading the comics?”

She nodded.  “With my brother.  It was kind of our thing.  I was too little to have any money of my own, but he had a paper route, and he set aside enough to get each new issue.  I started stealing them after he’d read them, and when he caught me, oh man, I thought I was dead.”

“How much older is he?”

“Seven years.  Big family.  He was the oldest, I was the baby,” she explained simply.  “Anyway, he just asked what I thought about ‘the Cap,’ and the next week, he took me along with him to buy the newest one, and we read it together.”  She felt herself tearing up, and sat, pulling her knees up to her chest.  “Ah, damn it.”

She struggled with the tears.  Bruce said nothing, but simply sat in silence next to her.

“He died.  2005.  Afghanistan.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Seeing him--Captain Rogers--it was just...  The first thing I thought was, ‘I gotta call Sean, he’s not gonna believe this,’ and for a minute, I totally forgot he was gone.  And then I remembered.  Sorry.”  She pressed her forehead to her knees as she choked up again.

She focused on breathing for a moment, and gradually became aware of a weight across her shoulders.  Bruce’s arm.  Slowly, he pulled her towards him until her legs leaned against his and her face was pressed to his shoulder.

“This okay?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

They sat that way while Darcy snuffled, and sobbed, and snorted a bit (she was not at her best when she was crying), but eventually the storm passed, and Darcy was increasingly aware that she was sitting outside, eyes bleary and nose running, and Bruce Banner had his arm around her.  As the grief faded, the awkwardness crept in.  Should she say something?  Move away?  A gesture which had initially been comforting now felt paralyzingly odd.

Darcy cleared her throat and pulled her glasses back on (removed to facilitate pressing of face to Bruce).  “So, uh, I guess you get my tragic backstory after all.”  She risked a glance at his face, and found his expression patient as always, eyes warm.

He shrugged a little and grinned ruefully.  “Mine’s worse,” he said.

And just like that, the awkwardness vanished.  Darcy laughed, despite herself.  “I bet it is,” she said, and reached for his hand to link her fingers with his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got heavy, sorry, y'all. Back to hijinks next time around.
> 
> The responses I get to this story just get better and better. You guys make me think and laugh and challenge me to push the story onwards. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you're reading and loving this odd brainchild of mine. Thank you.


	16. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which JARVIS is a jerk.

Darcy soon learned to act like a normal person in Captain Roger’s presence.  Living in the same house helped, for as much as the Captain was the soul of politeness, he was still a human.  A human who was frequently confounded by modern technology.

She learned this the evening of the day he arrived, after she’d cried herself out and she and Bruce had walked back to the house.  She returned to the kitchen to see to the dishes, and found the Captain attempting to do the same.

Except he couldn’t figure out how to get the faucet to cooperate with him.

“No.  Stop that,” she heard as she approached the kitchen.

“What temperature would you like the water, Captain?”  JARVIS asked.

“Hot.”

“If you touch the faucet towards its base, that should heat the water sufficiently.”

“I have touched it at the base.  The water keeps turning itself off.”  Darcy heard the water cut off.  “ _Damn it.”_

The mild oath broke through her nervousness.  She couldn’t help it.  She laughed.

Captain Rogers spun towards her as she stepped into the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Captain.  I’ll take care of the dishes.”

He blushed, but held his position.  “Thank you, Miss Lewis, but I need to learn to do this myself if I’m going to be of any use around here.  Plus, where I come from, the person who bakes the dish does not wash it.”

“An admirable policy I hope you will manage to pass onto Clint.  At least let me help you with the faucet.”

The Captain moved back.  “As to that, I’d be much obliged.”

Darcy stepped up next to him, forcing the butterflies in her belly to calm the fuck down.  “I like technology as much as the next Millennial or whatever it is they’re calling my generation now, but it seems to me that normal faucets are pretty much as high tech as they need to be.”

The Captain grinned.  “Agreed.”

“But this is Stark’s house, so we’re stuck with this one.  The way it works is, you tap the base to turn the water on or off.  The temp is determined by _where_ on the faucet you tap.  The higher up you go, the colder the water is.  For really hot, you want to hit about here,” she tapped near the bottom, but high enough up that the faucet wouldn’t shut the water off.  Rogers reached over to mimic her.  “It takes practice, but you’ll figure it out.”

“I will,” he said in determination.  Darcy tried to imagine what it must be like for him, waking up in a place as far removed from the world he knew as this one was, and failed.  She’d probably spend a lot more time using her super soldier strength to break things like that faucet.  His restraint was admirable.

She took a step back as he started filling the sink with hot water and soap.  “By the way, I’m sorry for the way I freaked on you earlier.  I sort of idolized you when I was a kid, and seeing your idols in person...well, it’s weird.”

Rogers smiled ruefully over his shoulder at her.  “Don’t worry, Miss.  You're not the first.  It still feels wrong, but I’m getting used to it.”

“I hope so, because it’s probably not going away.  And call me Darcy, please.  It’s weird enough that JARVIS insists on calling me ‘Miss.’”

“Alright, Darcy.  Steve,” he held out one hand, then realized it was soapy and started to pull it back.  Darcy grabbed it anyway.

“It’s nice to meet you, Steve.”  She dried her hand on a towel, then moved around the kitchen island to sit at the bar.  There might be some women who could have walked away from the sight of Captain Steve Rogers doing dishes, but Darcy was unashamedly not one of them.

“So you’re here for, what, team-building exercises?” she asked.

“That’s a good way to describe it.  We pulled it together as a team at the last minute in New York last spring, but there’s no guarantee we could do it again if we ever needed to.  Especially with the more...unpredictable elements of the team.”

“The Hulk,” Darcy said.

Steve nodded.  “And Thor, who we currently can’t count on at all.”  He cleared his throat.  “Speaking of the Hulk, I‘ve heard you’ve had a couple of encounters.”

“I have.  The big guy seems to like me.”

“That’s good to hear.  I’ll admit to having some reservations when I heard that Tony had arranged for you and Dr. Foster to live here.  The last thing we want is to put civilians in harm’s way.”

“Jane and I appreciate the concern, Captain, but I don’t think you’ll need to worry about us.  Besides, we know enough not to run into the midst of battle.”

Steve shot her a look that seemed to say _Really?_ and the implicit sarcasm humanized him even more.

“Miss Lewis, I have been instructed to inform you that Dr. Foster could use your assistance in the lab,” JARVIS broke in.

“Oh yeah, we’ve got stuff to get done today.  ’Scuse me, Steve,” she said.  “Thanks for the dishes. I gotta go or Jane will come after me, and she may look all sweet, but she’s feisty.”  She started out of the room, then turned back.  “Oh.  Don’t worry about the other faucets in the house.  This is the only stupidly high tech one.  So you should be able to take a shower, no problem.”  

Aaaaand great.  Now she was thinking about Captain America naked.

Steve gave her a small soapy salute as she hurried out, trying to suppress the images her mind was conjuring up.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said as she walked into the lab.  Jane was on the floor surrounded by piles of random machine parts. _Oh yeah,_ Darcy recalled, _we’re building today._  Bruce was standing nearby, surveying the chaos.

Jane was pretty hands-on when it came to science (as evidenced by her DIY’d equipment), so it was no surprise that she would be building the bridge device.

“Where did that stuff even come from?”  Darcy asked.

Bruce pointed across the lab, where two of Jane’s homemade machines had been dismantled.

“You’ve resorted to cannibalizing your own equipment, Jane?”

“I informed Dr. Foster that there are plenty of spare parts in the garage,” JARVIS put in.

Jane looked up in surprise.  “You did?”

“I did, Dr. Foster.”  Jane blinked owlishly, and Darcy figured that her friend had been too wrapped up in her project to even hear the AI.

“What happens the next time we need to use the--” Darcy squinted at the wreckage, trying to make out what it had actually been.

“The photoluminescence spectrometer,” Bruce supplied, then grinned and shrugged when she glared at him.   _Show off._

“The PL spectrometer,” she said.

Jane returned to the project at hand.  “I’ll rebuild it.”

“Jane,” Darcy huffed.  “Fine.  But the next new thing you need, before you take apart something else tell me and we will steal it from Tony Stark.”

“Yes, alright,” Jane said, and Darcy thought she’d probably caught half of what she’d said.  “Hand me the phillips head screwdriver?”

Hours later, Darcy was on the ground with Jane, waist-deep in machine parts which she couldn't have named or described the function of if the big flamey Destroyer thing had been standing over her, demanding she do so. Jane was definitely making progress in constructing a _something,_ and seemed to be pleased with it. JARVIS would occasionally chime in with advice, which Jane had finally stopped ignoring when she realized he was actually being helpful (not surprising, considering he'd helped Stark build his suits and they were pretty much the height of mechanical innovation on the planet). Bruce had long ago gotten bored acting as spectator, and had wandered over to his side of the lab.

Darcy was handing Jane various tools as she requested them and sneaking glances across the lab.  Bruce was working on a “window monitor” (not its actual name, probably, just what Darcy called the transparent mounted tablets in the lab that you could use from either side), tapping and adjusting and occasionally writing with a stylus, which the monitor would then transcribe.  Darcy had suggested Jane give one a try, but she persisted in her habit of scrawling notes on any sheet of paper she could find, and so Darcy persisted in typing up her notes for her.  It kept her in a job, anyway.

As Bruce worked, one of his sleeves began to unravel from his elbow, and he absently rerolled it.  “I am having impure thoughts about that man’s forearms,” Darcy murmured without thinking.

“Who, Captain Rogers?” Jane asked, not looking up from the device in her hands.

“What?”  Darcy gave her a startled look, shocked her friend had even heard her.  She’d thought Jane was too immersed in her project.  “What?”

Jane looked at her in exasperation.  “Whose forearms, Darcy?”  She was making no effort to lower her voice, and even though the words were innocuous, Darcy was too terrified to turn her head and see if Bruce had taken notice of the exchange.

She leaned towards Jane and spoke in a whisper.  “ _No one’s.  No forearms.  Shut up.”_

That got her attention.  Jane looked up with raised eyebrows, took in Darcy’s flushed cheeks, then glanced beyond her to Bruce’s workstation.  Darcy could see the calculation in Jane’s eyes, and knew her secret was no longer only hers.  “Shhh,” Darcy emphasized.

“You and me.  Your room.  10 pm,” Jane said, thankfully at a lower volume.

_“Fine,”_ Darcy said through gritted teeth.

“Bring wine,” Jane said, finally returning her attention to the device.

“Do you need any help?”  From the sound of his voice, Bruce was closer than his lab bench, and Darcy turned her head to find him standing nearby.

She forced her face into a smile.  “Nope!  Everything’s peachy here.  Thanks!”

Bruce gave her a quizzical look, but turned to walk away.  At that moment, the sound of drums filled the lab, followed by guitar music.  Darcy jumped to her feet and shouted “JARVIS, no!  Not cool!”

The song cut off just before the vocals would have started in Best Coast’s “[Boyfriend](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uqphb_WM1rM).”  (It went, quite plainly, “I wish he was my boyfriend, I wish he was my boyfriend.”)  She hoped to god Bruce had been too busy saving lives and evading the authorities in India to keep up with contemporary music trends.

The mad flush was back on her face, she knew, as well as two sets of eyes--one alight with amusement, the other narrowed in confusion.  Not your smoothest moment, there, Lewis, she thought.

“Miss Lewis--” JARVIS began.

“No music!”

There was a short pause, and if he hadn’t been a machine, she would have sworn JARVIS was biting back laughter.  “Very well, Miss Lewis.  However, it seems your cat has made himself at home in Captain Rogers’ bedroom.  The Captain would like to know where to deposit him.”

_Oh._  “Oh.”   _Mjolnir, I am going to reward your timing with so many treats._  “Tell him I’ll be right up to get him.  It’s time for Mjolnir to eat, anyway.”  She started across the lab.  “I’ll see you guys at dinner,” she said, without looking back.

As she walked back upstairs, she hissed at JARVIS, “That was a dirty trick.  You’ve been spending too much time with Stark.”

“I’m afraid you might be right, Miss,” came the mournful reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JARVIS has the ability to perceive the degradation of his moral compass, but can do nothing to stop the process.
> 
> I have friends who have a faucet like the one described here (theirs is slightly less complex, though it DOES light up red or blue depending on the temperature of the water). It is confounding. No faucet needs flashing lights.


	17. Girl Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy fesses up.

After all of the pie-baking, Darcy was too tired to do any sort of respectable dinner, so she pulled out some of the pizza dough that she mixed up periodically and kept on hand (Clint was _constantly_ in the mood for pizza, so it got a lot of use).  She rolled out two huge rectangular pies, loaded them up with sauce, cheese, and meats, then made a smaller veggie pizza for Bruce.  She lit a couple of candles, opened a bottle of red wine that JARVIS recommended (Darcy was of the “choose your wine based on the illustrations on the label” school of thought, which didn’t get her very far in Stark’s wine fridge, which was full of bottles with intimidating text-only labels), and called it done.  Everyone seemed pleased.

They lingered over dinner, the group (Steve referred to them collectively as “The Avengers,” a term which had made Natasha wince, but no one corrected him) demanded updates on the state of New York City, Tony Stark (who no one had seen in person since he’d left NYC shortly after the attack, about which Steve expressed some concern), and the various supervillainous goings-on in the world.  Darcy mostly stayed quiet, and noticed that Jane did as well, until Steve asked directly about her progress on the bridge.

After the meal, Darcy left Steve nagging Clint into doing the dishes (bless him), nabbing wine glasses and a random bottle of white on her way out.  JARVIS did not immediately scold her, so she assumed her choice was neither something that cost more than she was worth nor was it awful.  She ran into Natasha on the stairs, and saluted her with the bottle, which earned her a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not all for me,” Darcy said.  “Jane’ll drink some, too.  We’re having a girls night.”

“Girls night.”

“Yeah, you know, where you sit around with your lady friends and imbibe alcohol, gossip, watch generally awful movies, and make questionable decisions about nail polish colors.  Girls night.”

“Right,” Natasha said, sounding less than enthused.

“Why don’t you join us?  We’re gathering at 10.  Come on, it’ll be fun,” she added when it looked like Natasha would refuse.  To Darcy’s knowledge, sparring with Clint was Natasha’s only leisure activity.  It couldn’t hurt to expand on that.

There was a beat of extreme reluctance.  “Okay.  Sure.”   _Maybe Clint-punching does get old._

“Great!  JARVIS, could you ask Jane to bring along an extra glass when she comes up, please?”

“Certainly, Miss Lewis.”

“Thanks, dude.  I’ll see you at 10,” she said to Natasha.  She turned the knob on her door using her elbow (a feat she was rather proud of), and went inside.

The bedrooms in Stark’s cabin were not messing around.  Darcy had more room to herself than she had ever had in her life, and had taken great joy in covering every surface (of which there were many) with clothes simply because she _could._  As a result, she had some cleaning to do in the next half hour.  The place was pretty, too.  Full of light, the walls were painted in a warm grey, with art and bedding in vibrant reds.  Set against the deep green of the trees outside, the effect was stunning.  Plus, Darcy got a bathroom to herself, and the tub in there was _sick._  This house was going to effectively ruin her for all other houses.

Natasha arrived promptly at 10, looking profoundly uncomfortable as Darcy tossed the last of her discarded clothing into the _(ridiculously huge)_ closet.  “Hey, Nat!  Want wine?”

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“Awesome, so do I.”  Darcy fought the cork out of the bottle--she was going to have a serious talk with Stark about the inherent value of twist-open wine when he eventually showed up--and poured them each a generous amount.  “I apologize in advance, by the way.  You’re in for a conversation I don’t particularly wish to have, and I doubt your presence will do much to deter Jane.”

“A conversation about what?”

“About a rather inconvenient crush I may or may not have developed.”

“A crush.”

“Yeah.  You know, when you like a guy?  Or girl?  Or whichever kind of person you go for?”

Natasha raised one of those unfairly perfect eyebrows at her.  “I know what a crush is, Darcy.  I have been in the States for quite a while.  And also, you know...Clint.”

“But you’d never seen Arrested Development!”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve been living in a cave.”

“Might as well have,” Darcy mumbled into her wine glass.

“Is it Steve?”

Darcy’s head whipped up.  “Why does everyone think it’s Steve?”

“Because you’ve spent the past two days babbling like an idiot about the man?” Jane asked wryly from the door.

“Dude, that’d be like me accusing you of crushing on Stephen Hawking based entirely on the amount you mention him in conversation,” Darcy protested.

“Is that what it would be like?” Jane asked, pouring a sensible amount of wine into the glass she’d brought with her.

“Stephen Hawking does not look like Steve Rogers,” Natasha pointed out.

_“If he did,”_ Darcy said.  “My point is, that’s a hero crush.  Totally different.”

“I have never had indecent thoughts about Dr. Hawking’s forearms, that’s for sure,” Jane said.

Darcy sipped her wine.  It was good.  JARVIS’s lack of intervention won the day again.  “They’re really good forearms.  Not Hawkings’.”

Natasha settled herself on one end of the room’s plush loveseat.  “So, who...?”

“Bruce,” Jane supplied, sitting on the other end.

“Bruce,” Natasha said flatly.

“Bruce!” Darcy cried, throwing her free arm in the air as she sat on the accompanying armchair.

“Darcy,” Natasha started, just as flatly.

“I know.  I know!  Much older, IQ could run laps around mine, turns into a surprisingly articulate giant green rage monster on the reg.  It’s not ideal.”

“It’s a disaster.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jane began.

“Trust me on this one.  Banner’s great, if a little on the mature side for you, Darcy--” Darcy shrugged in response.  “--but you think you’ve seen the Hulk at his worst, and you haven’t.”  Natasha was doing her best to pin Darcy with one of her more serious looks (she had a whole collection).

But Darcy was shaking her head before Natasha could finish.  “I don’t think that.  I’ve seen the footage from New York.  I know I’ve only seen his cuddlier side.  Though, I was also under the impression that he was doing...better.  You know, so far as where he falls on the ‘mindless rage’ spectrum.”

Natasha looked like she wanted to deny that, but she eventually conceded the point.  “Maybe.  It’s still _extremely dangerous,_ Darcy.”

“Okay!  Yes!  But please note that there are several steps between finding a dude lustworthy and planning to elope to Vegas with him.”  Darcy was gesturing with her wine, but she stopped when it looked like it was in danger of sloshing over the edge.  Which, of course, meant there was too much wine in the glass.  She drank.

Dusty Springfield began to croon “[The Look of Love](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6KhuI_42W4).”  Jane laughed helplessly.  Natasha shot a warning look upwards, but Darcy let the song continue.  A little Dusty never hurt anyone, and besides--JARVIS wasn’t exactly _wrong._

“I actually thought it would be _helpful_ having you here for this conversation, Nat.”

“Yeah, that was much worse than what I was planning to say,” Jane said.

“What were you planning to say?” Darcy asked, curious.

Jane made a vague gesture with her free hand.  “Didn’t really have a plan.  I was mostly interested in hearing what you had to say, Darce.  He’s not your usual style, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.  He’s...sweet.  And smart, which is _incredibly_ sexy.  And sometimes he’ll say something sort of to himself, like he doesn’t expect anyone will hear it, and it’ll be hilarious.”

“So that’s why the random laughter.  I was beginning to think you were just insane,” Natasha said.

“You’re not wrong either way,” Jane put in.

_“Thanks,_ Boss.  Very nice.”  Jane shrugged and smiled.

There was a light knock on the door.  “It’s open!” Darcy called.

The door swung in to reveal Bruce standing there, holding Mjolnir.  He blinked at the sight of all three ladies.  “Oh, hello.”

“Hello, Bruce,” Jane greeted him.

Darcy set her wine glass down on a side table.  “Hi.”

Bruce focused on her.  “Your cat was outside of my room.  I think he was lost.”

“Looking for Clint, probably,” Darcy said, standing to take her pet from him.  “You little traitor,” she crooned to the cat.

“What are you all up to?”

“Just having a girls night,” Darcy said.

The music abruptly switched over to “[I Only Want to Be With You](http://youtu.be/osVaF4t-zFc).”  Jane snorted as she was taking a sip of wine, then started coughing wildly.  Natasha reached over and smacked her on the back.

“Are you okay, Jane?”  Bruce asked.

“Oh, she’s _fine,_ ” Darcy said.  She was going to find JARVIS’s circuits and smash them.  With Thor’s hammer, if she had it on hand.  “Thanks for bringing him over,” Darcy moved her arms to indicate the cat.  “But Jane was getting ready to list all of things she loves about Thor, so unless you’d like to join us--”

Bruce raised his hands in mute surrender.  “That sounds, uh...right.  Goodnight, Darcy, Jane, Natasha.”  He nodded at them in turn, then fled.  The door swung closed behind him, which was honestly not a thing she knew it could do.  JARVIS, making nice.

“You see?” she asked, spinning back to the women.  “He even stammers adorably.”

Natasha looked at her blankly.  “You are in trouble.”

“I am.”

“I know you were kidding about Thor, but since we’re gossiping about guys...” Jane trailed off, looking chagrined.

“Yes!  Absolutely, Jane, let’s talk about Thor.”  Darcy set Mjolnir on his bed, then returned to her chair.

Natasha glanced longingly at the door, then firmed her chin.  “I need more wine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint-punching never gets old. But it's good to have variety in your life.
> 
> My hero crush is Neil Degrasse Tyson. If you were curious.


	18. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy is under the weather.

After a few days of getting settled in, Steve and the rest of the “Avengers” (so cool) started training.  It turned out that Tony had included a training room built to accommodate the Hulk in a sub-basement that Darcy hadn’t even known existed.  The house had literal hidden depths.  But the group seemed to prefer sparring in the woods.  This was especially true of Clint, who loved nothing more than sniping his teammates with trick arrows from the trees.

“A _net_ arrow, Clint?   _Really?”_ Natasha was griping as they filed back into the house one afternoon.  She was pulling various pieces of forest ephemera out of her hair.

Clint was grinning.  “It’s a bitch to put back once you’ve used it.  Worth it, though.”

“I’m not sure I can see it having a whole lotta use in the field, Clint,” Steve said.

“Just for that, I am going to prove you wrong.”  He laid down his bow.

Darcy had a strict “no weapons on the dinner table” rule.  She made a sound of protest from the kitchen.

“Aww, but Mom...”

She’d always been fond of the cabin kitchen, but after a few weeks of the training schedule, she decided that the thing she liked best about the location of it was how central it was.  She could decide to make complicated, involved dishes, and never really miss out on the action because the other occupants of the house were constantly filing in and out.  Or, in Clint’s case, dropping without warning from the balcony above (which she was still _really_ not a fan of).  And really, the best part of being tangentially involved with the Avengers was getting to observe them.

Natasha rounded the island to pull a water bottle out of the fridge.  “Tea?” she asked, nodding at the kettle on the stove.

Darcy grunted an assent.

“Really?  Tea?  No fancy latte?”  Clint moved his bow to the island, smirking in response to Darcy’s baleful look.

“I felt like tea.”

“Leave her be, Clint,” Natasha said.

Darcy shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and focused on the kettle, willing the water to boil.

“You feeling alright, Darcy?”  Steve asked.

“I’m okay.”

“According to my sensors, your temperature is two degrees hotter than usual today, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS said.

“May I?” Steve asked, then laid his hand across Darcy’s forehead when she nodded.  “You do feel hot.”

“You sick?”  Clint’s face fell into serious lines.  It wasn’t a look she saw very often on him.

Darcy shrugged.  “A little fever.  I’m fine.”

She managed to wriggle out of the kitchen with her tea and a minimum of fussing (Avengers: they worry about people.  When you are sick and in front of them, they worry about you) and went back to the lab.  

Jane had progressed in her construction and had produced something they could run trials on, so Bruce was fully involved in the process now.  Normally Darcy was there to hand them whichever tool they needed at any given point, but because she wasn’t feeling great, she was leaving that to one of Stark’s robots.  Given the way that Jane was snarking at the thing, she gathered that Darcy was currently ranking above the machines in the handing-of-things-to-Jane department.  Truly a triumph for humanity.

Darcy sipped her tea, letting the warm liquid soothe her sore throat.  As she watched, Bruce picked up a sheaf of papers and squinted at them.

“Glasses,” Darcy said.  She hadn’t said anything to him since he’d wandered in, de-Hulked after training.  Bruce looked at her in surprise.  "Your glasses.  You need them to read that.”  She paused to take another sip.  “They’re on your head.”

Bruce smiled wryly, took the glasses off his head, and saluted her with them.  “Thanks, boss.”

She returned the salute with her tea cup.

“Darcy, go back to bed.  You sound like death,” Jane spoke without turning from her work.

“No.”  Bruce was still squinting at the papers, which meant it wasn’t the data he was looking for.  “The power readings are behind the big blue thingy to your right.”  He picked up the paper she’d indicated, and waved it in thanks as he walked back to to lab bench.  “See?  Still useful.”

“I believe I also could have aided Dr. Banner, Miss Lewis,” JARVIS said.

“Gunning for my job, J?”

“Of course not.  But your core temperature has climbed another half degree.”

“I’m fine.”

But the AI’s words had caught the scientists’ attention.  “What’s her temp, JARVIS?” Bruce asked.

“100.3 degrees.”

“Darcy.”  Jane actually turned away from her precious machine to give her an exasperated look.  “Take some aspirin and go back to bed.  We’ll muddle through without you.”

Bruce had crossed the lab and laid his palm across her forehead.  The gesture was identical to Steve’s earlier, but her response to it was entirely different.  Her gut churned and she felt a flush working its way up her neck, which she hoped he’d attribute to the fever.  He looked at her over his glasses and managed to look professorial and sexy all at once.  Okay, maybe the fever was a problem.

“Very scientific, Doc.”

“Humor me,” he said, and gone were the earlier smiles.

_Please don’t tell me I feel hot.  My system couldn’t take it,_ she thought.

“It is my assessment that Miss Lewis ought to be resting, Dr. Banner.”

“Good call, JARVIS.”  Bruce opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a bottle of pills.  He glanced at the label, then handed them to her.  “Take two of those.  Go to bed.”

“I thought you were a physicist-type superscientist.  Not a medical-type.”

“I dabble.  Now, go.”

Darcy reluctantly accepted the bottle of pills.  It wasn’t that she wanted to be sick, but she was used to being on her own, and on her own, she usually dealt with sickness by suffering through it in heroic silence.  She'd always been too poor to miss work over a stupid head cold.

“But who will cook dinner?”

“Someone else.  We can feed ourselves, you know.”

Darcy raised her brows at that.  “Can you?”

“Yes,” he said firmly.  “JARVIS, please keep me updated on Darcy’s fever.”

“Yes, Dr. Banner."

Damn it.  Now JARVIS would be watching her every move.  Not that he wasn’t usually, but...ugh.  From the expression on Bruce’s face, Darcy thought he knew exactly what he’d just set in motion.

“That was sneaky, Dr. Banner.”

“Yes.  Now _go to bed.”_

Darcy went to bed.  But she wasn’t happy about it.  She grumbled all the way up the two flights of stairs, down the hall, and into her bedroom.  She grumbled as she kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed.  She grumbled when JARVIS reminded her that she still hadn’t taken the pills she held in her hand, and she grumbled while she got a glass of water to do so.

Despite her reluctance, once she got into bed, her limbs felt leaden.  “Tell the others they’re on their own for dinner, JARVIS.  Since the good Dr. Banner sure as hell won’t remember to.”

“Right away, Miss Lewis.”

“There’s still some pizza dough in the fridge, and more in the freezer.  Oh, and leftover tomato soup.  I could do soup and sandwiches, that’s not hard.”

“No cooking.”

“Fine, fine.  Steve makes a good grilled cheese.  Tell ‘em if they can sweet talk Steve into grilled cheeses, plus the tomato soup, that should be good.”  JARVIS may have said something, but she didn’t quite hear it.  Her head was feeling leaden, too.  “Clint ‘n Jane will want bacon on their sandwiches.  There’s bacon...somewhere.  Crisper.  No, not there.”

She thought for a moment.

“Whatever.  There’s bacon.”  Another half-heard something from JARVIS.  “Uh-huh.  Remind Clint...feed cat.”  And she was gone.

She didn’t remember much after that.  She woke once feeling like she was burning from the inside-out, and tore at her sweatshirt and the duvet until she was cool again.  Sometime after that, she woke in chills and burrowed back under the covers.  It went like that, she thought, for some time, though she had no sense of how long.

The rest came in flashes.  Natasha’s bright hair, a cold compress on her hot face, Jane humming tunelessly, Mjolnir’s quiet purr.  A hand in hers, calloused and oddly familiar.

She came awake suddenly, without a clear idea of what had woken her.  She glanced around the room, but it offered no clues.  The sky was light outside, so she couldn’t even tell how much time had passed.

Then there was a roar.

“Guh,” said Darcy.

“I believe the Hulk is outside your window, Miss.”

She pulled herself up to look, and yup, the Big Guy was standing there, glaring at the glass.  “How long was I...?”

“Two days, Miss.”

“Jesus.”  No wonder she felt like death.  “Can you open that?”  It didn’t look like the type of window that could open, but hey, it was the Super House.  Couldn’t hurt to ask.  Sure enough, a portion of the pane slid aside.  “Cool.”  She clambered out of bed, and walked to the window.

“Hey,” she greeted the Hulk, leaning a shoulder against the wall.  “You miss me?”

He growled.   **"Banner worried.”**

“But not you, right, Big Guy?”

In response, he snarled and walked away.

“Good talk,” she said as she walked back across the room.  “I’m sure glad I got up for that.”

“[Feel Good Inc.](http://youtu.be/pls_luhVdAw)” by the Gorillaz started to play, and Darcy laughed.  “ _You_ missed me, didn’t you, J?”  She grabbed the glass of water that was sitting on the bedside table and carried it to the loveseat.  She’d taken a sip when there was a knock on the door.  “Come in.”

Steve peeked in.  “JARVIS said you were awake.”

She blinked.  “Did he announce it to the house?”

“Just me,” Steve said.  “It was my turn.” _Okay._  “Also, I thought the Hulk might have done the job.”

“Yeah, that’s a fun way to wake up.”

He smiled.  “Good to hear you sounding like you.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m alive, and I’m putting that in the plus column.”

“Hungry?”

Darcy took stock.  “Yes.  Yes, I am.”

“Soup sound okay?”

“Soup sounds great.”

Steve went to retrieve the soup, and Darcy realized that she was wearing the same thing she’d had on two days prior when she’d first crawled into bed. _“Ew.”_

She stood under the shower until she felt marginally human again, which took some time.  She couldn’t be bothered to put on more than her bathrobe, which had Steve blushing when she exited the bathroom and found him setting soup down on her coffee table.

“I’m sorry,” he began.  “JARVIS assured me--”

“S’okay,” she waved him off.  The robe had come with the room, so it was superhero-sized.  She would have been showing more skin in a Snuggie.

“Chicken noodle.  From a can,” he added apologetically.

Darcy smiled in gratitude.  “It smells great.”  She sat to eat, then gestured to the armchair when Steve turned awkwardly to leave.  “Tell me what I missed.”

Steve sat.  “Not a whole lot.  Jane and Bruce made some progress on the device, I think.  Natasha knocked Clint out of a tree.”

“Had it coming, probably.”

He grinned.  “Hulk caught him, which is a good team development.  Immediately dropped him, though.”

She slurped at her soup.  “Probably had that coming, too.”

“JARVIS kept us updated on you.  It’s a hell of a thing, the way he--it--is with you.”

“Worrywort,” Darcy said fondly.

The AI was silent.  Steve was still uneasy around a lot of the tech the house was built on, and a disembodied voice with the personality of a prim British butler was definitely one of those things.

“You there, JARVIS?”

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you play something the Captain would like?”

The Andrews Sisters’ “[Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy](http://youtu.be/OfWc52smNs8)” streamed from the hidden speakers, and a smile spread across Steve’s face.  “Well, ain’t that a thing,” he said.

They chatted while Darcy slowly put the bowl of soup away (not eating for two days does things to your appetite, it seemed).  “Can I get you anything else?” he asked when she set down the bowl.

She shook her head.  “I’ll come down and make some tea in a bit.  I’ll get dressed first,” she laughed when he looked at her askance.

He left with the dishes, and she took her time hunting up clothing.  She felt miles better, but still a bit like she was moving in a dream.  Her limbs felt heavy, her brain slow.  She braided her wet hair, for lack of any better ideas of what to do with it, and had gotten a pair of sweats on when there was another tap on the door.

“Just a sec!”  She yanked on a camisole that was close at hand, and was pulling on a cardigan as she opened the door.

Bruce was standing there, holding two steaming cups.  He looked at her, then deliberately moved his gaze a foot to the right, and Darcy realized that her camisole--one she usually wore under other shirts or to bed--was showing a lot more of her not inconsiderable cleavage than she generally chose to display.  She pulled the edges of the cardigan across her body.

“Hey, doc.”

“Hey.  Steve mentioned you wanted tea, and I was making some for myself, so...” he blindly offered her one of the cups, gaze still directed over her shoulder.

She took it.  “Thanks.  It’s safe to look,” she added wryly.

He focused on her face.  “How do you feel?”

“Almost human.  You want to come in?”  She turned to sit on the loveseat, leaving him to follow.  She’d tossed the bathrobe on the armchair, so he was forced to join her on the seat.  “You figure out what it was?”  When he looked at her in question, she held up her finger.  Beneath a neat bandage was a precise cut that hadn’t been there two days ago.  “I assume this was you.”

“Oh.  Yes.  The flu. Nothing your system couldn’t handle on its own, given the time.”  They sipped their tea.  He’d made her darjeeling, with milk and sugar.

“Good memory,” she said, nodding at her cup.

“You remember how everyone in this house likes their everything.  Remembering how you take your tea seemed the least I could do.”

Darcy blushed, and wasn’t sure why.  “Hulk said you were worried.”

Bruce sputtered into his tea.  He actually did.  Darcy had never actually seen someone sputter before.  “He did?”

She nodded.  “It was literally the only thing he said after roaring me back into consciousness.”

“Sorry.  Subtlety isn’t really his thing.”

“But he mentioned you by name.  Are you guys...aware of each other when the other one is in control?”

Bruce looked slightly discomfited.  “To a certain extent.  The Other Guy is mainly emotion, and I have a sense of him in the back of my mind, all the time.  I sometimes get flashes of the things he sees, but I have no idea how he perceives my presence.”

“Huh.  So.”  She returned to the subject at hand.  “You were worried about me?”

He moved a shoulder.  “Sure.  We all were.”

“Uh-huh.”  Darcy thought about the bits she remembered--Natasha, Jane, cold compresses.  They were a sweet bunch, her heroes.  “You want to watch a movie?”

He blinked at the abrupt subject change.  “Sure.”

“What do you like?”  She and Clint had occasional movie nights (part of an ongoing feud to determine whose taste was better), which the others would join them for from time to time, but Bruce had never offered an opinion on their choices in films.

“No chick flicks,” he said.

Darcy snorted.  “Please.  This is me.  How about something campy?”

He smiled.  “Sure.”

“JARVIS, you got _Big Trouble in Little China?”_ Bruce laughed.

The movie began, and JARVIS dimmed the lights a tad.  They both finished their tea, and shifted to get more comfortable on the loveseat.  Bruce stretched an arm across the back of the seat, and Darcy tucked her legs to the side.  Her feet were resting against his leg, but he didn’t say anything.

Just like they hadn’t said anything about their afternoon sitting on The Rock.  Just like she hadn’t mentioned, through the haze of fever, feeling his hand in hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most autobiographical thing I have put in this story. After having read this, you now know exactly what it is like to share a house with me when I'm sick (don't ever do that).
> 
> Trick arrows! Will this be the last we see of trick arrows? Probably not. I love those suckers.
> 
> These chapters are getting progressively longer, so I'm going to spread out the posting a little bit.
> 
> As always: thanks for the comments and kudos! I can't tell you how happy I am that something I wrote inspired such lively discussion of automatic toilets. Y'all are the best.


	19. Arrows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint has delusions of Mr. Miyagi-ness.

Saskatchewan in the summer had been warm during the day, and pleasantly cool at night.  Saskatchewan in the fall was freeze-your-tits cold from dawn to dusk.  Darcy was really hoping not to be around come winter, because she got the feeling that’s when they broke out the snowshoes she’d found in a closet the other day.

“This would be more fun if I was allowed to wear gloves,” Darcy complained, rubbing her fingers together.

“Then you wouldn’t be able to feel the string,” Clint said.

“Which wouldn’t be an issue if you hadn’t dragged me into the freaking woods, dude.  We have a perfectly good range in the house.”

“Too static.  For this to be a useful skill, you need to be able to react to outside elements.”  He handed her a bow.

“At what point in this process did it become about me gaining a useful skill?”

He shot a look over his shoulder as he walked away.  “When wasn’t it?”

“Um.  For _all of it?_ It made you happy if I shot arrows with you, so I shot some arrows.  End of story.”

“You were humoring me?  Lewis, that’s almost _nice.”_

She shrugged.  “Yeah, don’t let it get around.  What in the world are you doing?”

“Setting up a target.”  He reached into the bag he carried.

“The tree wasn’t target enough?  Barton, if you put an apple on your head, I swear to god I will _try_ to shoot you in the eye.”

But he pulled out an aerosol can and started to shake it.  “No apple.”  He popped the top off the can, and spray-painted a bullseye on the tree in vibrant purple.

“Yeah, that’s inconspicuous.  What did that poor tree ever do to you?”

He dropped the can back in the bag, then reached in and tossed her a quiver of arrows.  “Hit the middle.”

_“Hit the middle,”_ she mimicked, but she pulled an arrow out of the quiver and notched it on the bow.  She focused on the bullseye, released the breath she was holding, and let it fly.  It sailed past the tree, lodging in a log with a solid _thunk._

“That was awful,” Clint said plainly.

“I can’t feel my damn fingers!”

He rolled his eyes with a mighty sigh, then dug a pair of gloves out of his pocket.  “Here, use these.”

Darcy didn’t think running the risk of frostbite was quite deserving of an eye roll, but she accepted the gloves because seriously, she couldn’t feel her hands.  She pulled on the gloves, and discovered that they covered all but the tips of her fingers.  “Yes, I can see this being helpful.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get.  Now hit the middle.”

“I’ll hit _your_ middle,” she grumbled, but she notched another arrow.

The truth was, she didn’t hate the archery.  Sniping at Clint was fun, sure, but she had actually come to enjoy the challenge the bow presented her.  And as she’d built up (tiny, miniscule, practically not worth remarking on) muscle mass from her sessions with Natasha, the bow had become easier to wield.  It turned out that archery was the kind of sport she liked--there was no running, and at the end, you’d basically stabbed something with a whole lot of arrows.  Sedentary _and_ violent--just Darcy’s thing.  But not when she had to do it in the cold.

The gloves did help, however, and soon she was actually hitting the tree, pretty damn close to the middle.  Clint painted a few more ridiculous purple targets on nearby trees, and she hit them, too.  Mostly.

“When you said you were taking Darcy out for target practice, you didn’t mention you were planning on defacing the forest, Clint,” Natasha spoke from behind them.

Darcy whirled in surprise, automatically notching an arrow.

Natasha smirked.  “Should I be worried?”

Darcy let her arms drop.  “You just stand very, very still for, like, 10 minutes.  The we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“What’s up, Nat?”  Clint handed Darcy the bunch of arrows he’d pulled from the various places she’d managed to stick them.  She returned them to the quiver.

“Fury,” Natasha said.

Clint nodded once, then turned to Darcy.  “Come on, Speedy.”

They headed out of the woods.  “Oh, a Green Arrow reference?  Are you calling me your sidekick, _Ollie?”_

“Sure,” he turned, arms spread.  “It fits, right?”

Darcy looked him over.  “You couldn’t pull off the goatee.  Also you’re not a secret billionaire.”

“I might be.  That’s what _secret_ means.”

“Not even you could keep a secret that big, Barton.”

“Hey!  I’m a spy!”

“You’d never be able to resist the flash,” Darcy said.  Natasha gave a small laugh.

“Et tu, Tash?”  Clint laid a hand across his chest, miming the wound of her betrayal.

“Sorry, Clint.”

He shrugged, tacitly conceding the point.  “Whatever.  It was a dumb goatee.”

“It was _iconic,”_ Darcy protested as they reached the house.

“What’s for lunch?” Clint asked as the scent from the pot bubbling on the stove hit them.

“Beef stew,” Darcy answered.  The nice thing about cooking in a Super House was that she could leave something on the stove with the knowledge that JARVIS would turn down the burner if it started to boil over.  She peeled off her coat and gloves and went to check on it.  Clint and Natasha headed towards the back of the house, where the communications room was (that’s how Darcy thought of it.  It was actually just a room where the superspies chose to receive encrypted calls from S.H.I.E.L.D.--something any monitor in the house could do, but the room was private).

She stirred the stew, testing the tenderness of the potatoes.  She’d been making a lot of soups and stews since it had gotten cold in earnest.  It was November.  They’d celebrated Halloween with a movie marathon, each choosing their favourite scary movie.  Steve had picked _Bride of Frankenstein,_ Bruce _The Shining,_ Natasha _Carrie,_ Jane _Alien,_ Clint _Evil Dead II,_ and Darcy _The Mothman Prophecies_ (which wasn’t actually her favourite--that was _Vertigo--_ she just thought they should watch at least one movie from the current century).  They’d stayed up all night eating candy and alternatively covering their eyes or mocking their companions’ choices.   _The Shining_ had scared the crap out of Steve, to general hilarity.

The group was still training outdoors, which was increasingly problematic for Bruce, who inevitably had to spend some time essentially naked in the cold.  Darcy got the feeling that Steve was reluctant to move the training indoors, even with Stark’s assurance that the training room could withstand the Hulk.  But it was clear that the house in the woods had never been intended for an extended stay, and they all seemed to be waiting for some word from Stark.

“Put on something weird, JARVIS,” Darcy said as she added chopped vegetables to the stew.

“Certainly, Miss,” the AI replied.  “[Another Postcard](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gt3R6oTDt44)” by Barenaked Ladies began to play.

“That’s the stuff.”  She pulled leftover grilled eggplant out of the fridge for the Ciambotta she was making for Bruce.  The music continued through a mix of weird--mainly BNL, Cake, Weird Al, and some Tenacious D thrown in.  “[Wonderboy](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL4HSiGvk68)” was playing when Clint and Natasha came back in, looking considerably more sober than when they’d left.

“World ending?”  Darcy asked.

“Hmm,” Natasha answered.  “JARVIS, can you ask Steve, Bruce, and Jane to join us?”

The music switched off.  “Right away.”  There was a short pause.  “They’re on their way.”

“You like the D?” Clint asked Darcy.

“Some of their stuff, yeah.  You want stew?”

Clint nodded and reached in a cabinet to grab a bowl.

“Clint, get a bunch, will ya?”  He pulled down a stack of bowls.

Steve arrived first, wiping sweat off his brow with a towel.  Jane and Bruce followed in short order.  Darcy ladled stew into bowls for each of them, leaving the Ciambotta--an Italian vegetable stew--for last.

“What’s going on?”  Bruce asked her as she handed him the bowl.

“Got me.  Whatever it is, it came from Fury.”

Bruce’s curious expression hardened into something grim.  He thanked her for the stew, then joined the others.

Darcy pulled half a loaf of sourdough bread out of the bread box (something which Tony Stark had fortunately not managed to find a high tech version of), and carried it and her bowl of stew to the table.

Once everyone was settled, Natasha spoke.  “Clint and I have been activated.  We’re wheels-up from La Ronge at 1700.”

Darcy did the math.  It was three hours to La Ronge.  They’d need to leave in less than an hour.

“What’s happening?” Bruce asked.

“That’s classified,” Natasha said apologetically.  Bruce looked unsurprised.

Steve set his spoon into his bowl with an audible _click._  “We’ve actually got a mission of another sort, if you’re up for it.”

“We?”  Bruce asked.

“You, me, and Dr. Foster.”

“Me?” Jane looked up in surprise.  She’d been spooning stew into her mouth with single-minded intensity the way she did when she’d left her brain back in the lab.

“I got a call from Tony this morning.  He wants to go over the schematics for this machine you’re building.  In person.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows.  “Why can’t we go over them here?  Where the actual device is being built?”

“That,” Steve said, “is an excellent question.  Which is why I’m going along with you two.  Something’s up.”

“When do we leave?  Are we expected to bring the device?” Jane asked.

“He’s sending a jet tomorrow.  And no, I think just the plans will do.”

Jane nodded, and returned to her soup.

Darcy gave it a moment, and then spoke.  “So I’ll just hold down the fort then, shall I?”

Everyone looked at her in surprise.

“Ah--” Steve started.

“You’ll come with us, of course,” Jane said.

“I’ll be in the way and you know it, Jane.”

“Well, you can’t stay here alone,” Natasha said with a frown.

“Want to go on a secret mission, Speedy?”  Clint asked.

Natasha shot him a look like she couldn’t quite tell if he was serious, and Darcy laughed.  “Noooooo thank you.  Actually, I wouldn’t mind going home for the holiday.”

Blank expressions greeted that statement.  “Holiday?” Bruce asked.

“Yes.  Thanksgiving is on Thursday.  It’s kind of a big deal in the US of A.”  More blank looks.  “I’m guessing the rest of you don’t get daily nagging emails from your mom about this sort of thing, huh.”

“Is it safe?”  Jane asked.  Natasha had kept them updated on any Thor-centric threats S.H.I.E.L.D. had intercepted.  The people who’d made the initial attempt on their lives were still vocal, even if they hadn’t managed to find them in the wilds of Canada.

“You really think they’d come after _me?”_  Darcy asked.

“They did once before,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was mostly for Jane, right?  No offense, Jane.”  Jane shrugged, unbothered.  “I seriously doubt anyone’s actually gunning for me.”

Natasha looked unconvinced, which was crucial, as Darcy knew that Natasha was the one who had the actual power when it came to her fate.  Hell, she was probably the one with the most power in the Avengers.

“Maybe you could, like, assign another S.H.I.E.L.D.-type to hang around outside the house?  We’d feed them.  My mom always makes enough to feed an army.”

“You’re not technically a S.H.I.E.L.D. asset,” Natasha said.

Darcy blinked.  “I’m not?”

“No.  You work for Stark.”   _Oh, yeah._  “But I’ll see what I can do.”

After lunch, Darcy went back to the lab with Bruce and Jane.

“You should come with us, Darcy.  You wouldn’t be in the way,” Jane said.

“Come on, doc, we all know that’s not true.  I’m not that kind of assistant.  You won’t need me out there.”

“I need you,” Jane said fiercely.

“But not for the kind of things you’ll be doing with Stark.”

“She’s right, Jane,” Bruce said.  “We won’t be running trials or collecting data.  Tony’s going to want to look at every nut and bolt you’ve decided to put into the device.”

“Which, let’s be honest here, sounds like no fun _at all,”_ Darcy said.  “Look, this isn’t a matter of hurt feelings.  I know what I am and what I’m not, and I’m not a scientist or a spy or a superhero.  I’m the girl who bakes bread and keeps you organized.  So, tell me what you need organized for this trip to Tony Stark’s secret lair, okay?”

Jane frowned at her, but agreed.

“Miss Lewis, Agent Barton would like to see you upstairs,” JARVIS spoke about twenty minutes later.  “I believe time is of the essence.”

“Jeez, yeah, they gotta hit the road.”

Darcy hurried into the main room.  Natasha was in the car, but Clint was standing by the front door with a knapsack slung over his shoulder.  “Hey,” he said when she walked up.

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been booked on the shuttle to Saskatoon.  Someone will meet you at the gate, and then accompany you on your connections to Philly.  Once you’re on the ground, you’ll be shadowed.  Got it?”

“Yes.   _Thank you,_ Clint.”

“Hey, I didn’t pull these strings.  You’re there till Monday.  You should have an email about the trip back.  Enjoy the fam.”

“I will.”

He walked towards the car, then turned back to face her.  “Oh.  This is for you.”  He tossed her the knapsack.  “You should take it with you.”

Darcy opened the bag and peered in.  It was a collapsible bow and a quiver of arrows.  She fought back the grin that wanted to spread across her face.  She had an image to maintain.  “How am I supposed to fly with these!?”

“Check ‘em.”  He got in the car, then rolled down the window.  “Also, I took the rest of the cookies.”

There had been, like, 20.  “Oh, very nice.”

“See ya, Speedy!” he yelled as the car pulled away.

“Be safe, jerks,” she said, though they couldn’t hear her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Comics References, Batman! It was pointed out to me that it's a bit odd that I'm writing this Marvel behemoth and my icon is DC. I do read/consume both, as is evident in this chapter. Hopefully the Green Arrow stuff is general enough even if you're not too familiar with him (Oliver Queen--billionaire vigilante who went the Robin Hood costume route as opposed to the "I am the night" costume route. Speedy was his sidekick/partner/look it's complicated okay).
> 
> Also Hawkgirl is the shit.


	20. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet numerous Lewises.

Leaving the house was harder than Darcy had thought it would be.  After essentially being trapped there for four months, she thought she’d be desperate to get away.  But, she realized as she packed her bag, she’d never really felt trapped.  Nonetheless, a vacation would be nice.  She was excited about seeing her family, and she would be back in less than a week.

She helped Jane finish packing her plans and notes.  Bruce pointed out that the first thing Tony was going to do was have JARVIS scan the contents of every sheet of paper she’d brought, but Jane packed them anyway.  For such a young scientist, she was stubbornly old school about some things.

Steve had dutifully admired Darcy’s new bow, then corroborated Clint’s claim that she’d have no trouble transporting it back home.  She packed it at the bottom of her suitcase anyway.  She stole a few paper targets from the archery range, thinking she’d have time to practice in the yard at home.  Or (who was she kidding) show off to her siblings (she was the youngest of five, and being able to prove you’d gained a badass new skill rather than just bragging about it was a boon in the family social order).

That evening, Darcy baked up a batch of protein bars for Jane to take with her.  She figured if she packed them cleverly enough, Jane would occasionally come across one by accident and manage to eat something.  Steve and Bruce assured her that Stark’s Pepper Potts was a formidable opponent against accidental scientist starvation, but Potts was CEO of Stark Industries.  Darcy thought she probably had better things to do than nag Jane into eating.

She saran wrapped the bars, then distributed most of them evenly through the bags sitting in the house’s entrance.  The rest she carried upstairs with her.  She walked past her own door and knocked on Bruce’s.  He answered it wearing sweats and a t-shirt, much as he had been the night she’d baked bread.

He blinked at her as if she’d roused him from deep thoughts, and damn if that small action didn’t have her heart skipping.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” he answered.

“I brought you protein bars.  They’re tasty, I promise.  It’s a Jane-tested recipe.”  She offered the stack of wrapped bars.

“Thanks, Darcy.”  He took the bars and turned to place them on a nearby surface.  He didn’t explicitly invite her, but she took a step into the room anyway.  It was laid out much like hers was, only he appeared to actually make an effort to keep it clean.  Also it smelled like him, which was...not a thing she wanted to be noticing.

“Are you all packed?”  She asked.

“Yes.  I’ve gotten pretty good at packing at a moment’s notice, over the years.”

“Makes sense.  Why is my cat on your bed?”

“What?”  He turned to face the bed.  “Oh.  He must have snuck in.  Probably looking for Clint’s room.”  He picked the cat up and carried him to Darcy.

“Or he just likes you.”  In Bruce’s arms, the cat rolled over, purring loudly.  Darcy laughed.  “I think he likes you.”

Bruce ignored the adoring feline.  “Have you told your family you’re coming back for Thanksgiving?”

“Yup.  My mother is ecstatic.  The more the mouths to feed, the better.”  She paused a beat.  “I probably get that from her.”

Bruce chuckled.  “I wasn’t going to point it out.”

“I appreciate that.  My dad is I think pretty sure I have been kidnapped by a cult or something, so that’s going to be a fun conversation.  My siblings...I’m not sure what the reception will be.  I don’t know what my mom has told them.”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“Not religiously.  They’re all super busy.  My oldest sister, Sarah, is a firefighter.  My brother Jamie is in law school and works like 3 other jobs.  Sometimes when I want to feel better about my student debt, I think about his student debt.  My sister Alex is a teacher, and my brother Nick is a hairdresser.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.  Busy.  I’m probably closest to Nick, but he only recently set up his own salon, so he’s as stupid busy as the rest of them.”

“But that’ll be nice.  Seeing them.”

“Yes!  Especially since Nick will insist on cutting my hair,” she grinned.

Bruce made a small sound.  Darcy halted her flow of speech.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly.  But Bruce Banner was a careful man, and the idea that the noise hasn't been deliberate was intriguing.  Darcy pressed.

She held his gaze and tried her best to channel Natasha with her raised brow.  Something must have worked, because he attempted a response.

“Your hair is very nice," he began haltingly, "the way it is,” he finished.  There was a small pause.  He cleared his throat.

It was a small compliment, and he'd said kinder things before, but this was something he hadn't intended to give up.  It was a heady moment.

“It’ll just be a trim," she managed finally.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” she echoed.

They stood, looking at each other, silent and awkward.  Darcy thought that she wouldn’t see him for nearly a week after seeing him everyday for months.  That was a good thing.  Wasn’t it?

Mjolnir stretched a leg out and connected with Bruce’s chin, and he looked down, startled.  “Here,” he said, handing her the cat.

She cuddled Mjolnir to her chest.  “Thank you.”

“Thanks for the bars.”

“You’re welcome.”  She walked into the hall.

She thought he’d closed the door, but then he spoke.  “Be careful.”

She shot him a blithe smile.  “Of course!  When am I not?”

The next day, they all drove to the airport together.  The others had no scheduled flight time, by virtue of them having access to a Stark jet, but had decided they’d leave after Darcy’s flight.  This was so should ninjas attempt to attack her at the tiny Canadian airport, Steve would be on hand to impressively throw things at them.  

Darcy triple-checked the little robot from the lab they had relocated to the kitchen and programmed to feed Mjolnir.  “Are you sure this is going to work, JARVIS?”

“I am confident that your cat will be well fed during your absence, Miss.”

“And you’ll remind the others to feed him when they get home?”  The plan was for the superscientists (plus Steve) to spend two days in California, so they’d be beating her back.

“Of course.”

“Could you play some music or open a skylight every so often?  So he doesn’t get bored?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.”  She took a deep breath.  “Thanks.  I’ll miss you, little guy,” she said, nuzzling the cat’s neck.  “You too, J.”

JARVIS played “[Leaving On A Jet Plane](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANL6cRX2np0)” as she carried her bags out the door.

She was met in Saskatoon by an expressionless agent in a business suit who introduced herself as Clark.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” Darcy greeted her.  “But I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be a cakewalk.  Do you do crosswords?  This’ll probably be a good one for getting some crosswords done.”

Agent Clark didn’t blink.  She did direct Darcy to the gate of the plane which would take them to Chicago, and from thence to Philadelphia.  When she refused Darcy’s offer of junk food or coffee from a store in the terminal, Darcy began to suspect she was actually a robot.

Which would make her feel better about the fact that she was going to be spying on Darcy’s family gathering and missing any of her own.  Unless she had a robot family.  Darcy had only just become aware that AIs like JARVIS could exist.  The possibilities seemed endless.

"Novels? Do you read novels?" Darcy asked her as their plane taxied down the runway.

"True crime," she guessed somewhere over Illinois. "Comics. Wonder Woman. Hawkgirl."  Not a glimmer of an expression.

 _"Suspect S.H.I.E.L.D. escort actually v. advanced robot. Stark Tech?"_ Darcy texted Jane.

 _"Leave the poor fellow alone,"_ Jane responded.

_"It's a lady. So sexist, Jane."_

The texts from Jane stopped there, but to her delight, she soon received one from Bruce.   _"Describe this tech,"_ it said.

_"No movement of facial muscles. Despite best efforts NO EYE ROLLING. Clearly suspect."_

_"Try pie."_

_"None available. On an airplane."_

_"Stop texting from the air."_

_"You first."_

Darcy parted ways with her robot protector at the taxi stand, where she picked up a cab.  Taxis were generally considered a luxury where she was from, but she hadn't known her arrival information.

“Darcy!  A cab?” were the first words out of Jocelyn Lewis’s mouth when Darcy stepped out of the vehicle.

“Yeah, someone else made the arrangements.  It’s no big deal.”  She turned to pay the cabbie, but he waved her off.

“It’s been taken care of,” he said, setting her suitcase on the curb.

“You see?”

“Alex or I could have picked you up.  You didn’t need to take a cab.”

“Mom, it’s no big deal.  This way, John the Cabbie gets some of that sweet, sweet corporate money.  Put a big tip on there, okay?”  She said to the driver, who thanked her as he climbed back into the car.  “Happy Thanksgiving!” she called after him as he drove away.

She turned to grin at her mom, pleased to be home.

“It’s so good to see you,” her mom said, enfolding her in a hug.  “I’ve missed you so much.  My Darcy.”

“Missed you too, Ma.”

“I still don’t understand why you needed to go away.  First to Washington, and then to wherever you’ve been.”

Darcy hefted her bag as they walked up the path to the house.  “I’ve been a few places out west.”

“Are you planning on telling us who you’re working for?”

“I told you when I left DC, I’m working with Dr. Foster again.”

“And who is Dr. Foster working for?”

“That,” Darcy said as she opened the screen door, “is a secret.”  It wasn’t, really--she hadn’t signed anything for Stark the way she had for S.H.I.E.L.D., but she wasn’t an idiot.  Telling her family she worked for the Avengers was just asking for trouble.

“I thought as much,” Jocelyn said.  “Well, your father’s going to hate _that.”_

“He’ll deal.  So,” Darcy said, setting her suitcase inside the door.  “What am I making?”

“Well, Jamie and Peter” (Peter was Jamie’s boyfriend) “have cooked up this idea that they’re going to deep fry the turkey,” she said in her best not-judging-my-childrens’-life-choices voice.

“You bought a back-up turkey, of course,” Darcy said.

Her mother shot her a look (Darcy thought Clint would be surprised to see the _“Duh, dumbass”_ look in its original incarnation on Jocelyn’s face).  “Of course.  Why don’t you do a veggie?”

Darcy started up the stairs to her old room, suitcase in tow.  “Not potatoes, I’m assuming,” she called over her shoulder.

“As your brother still lives and breathes, no.  The potatoes are covered.”  Nicky claimed potatoes every damn year.

Darcy put her suitcase on the bed, and turned full circle in her little old room.  “Aw Mom, you put my books back on the shelves.”  The last time she’d visited, the books and comics had been in boxes and the shelves had held various decorative knickknacks.

“It seemed wrong not to,” she heard her mother shout from below.

She crouched next to the shelves to scan the spines.  Several hours later, she looked up from her place on the floor.  She was sprawled out, surrounded by comics.

“Hey, Nerd,” her brother said from the door.

“Nick!”  She sat up, but he waved her back.  A lot of people assumed that Nick was gay when they learned he was a hairdresser (nope, wrong brother), but he was 100% heterosexual and also happened to be built like a Mack truck.  He and Sarah both resembled Darcy’s tall, broad-shouldered dad (Sean had as well), but he’d chosen a less overtly physical profession.  He was living at home with their parents until his salon started turning a profit.

“I’ll come to you.  I know those are fragile.”  She made space on the floor, carefully stacking the comics in their mylar envelopes.  He settled down next to her.  “What made you dig out Sean’s old collection?”

She shrugged.  “Feeling nostalgic.”  She leaned her head on his shoulder.  “I miss you.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair in a way that was just shy of a noogie.  She batted his hand away.

“How’s the shop going?  Are you cutting the First Lady’s hair yet?”

“The secret service _has_ been hanging around the place lately...”

“Excellent!  That is either a very good or a very bad sign.”

He chuckled.  “It’s been good.  We hired a receptionist! We’re no longer answering our own phones!”

“Success!”  She raised her hand in invitation, and he gamely high-fived her.  “What’s happening with...Shelby?”  She grasped for the name of the last woman she could remember him dating.

“Oh, that fell apart.  I got time for nothin’ but hair these days, doll-face.  Speaking of...” he lifted a hank of her hair and dusted her nose with it.

“Hey!”

“We have _got_ to do something with this mess.”

“You were the last one who touched this mess.”

He wrinkled his nose.  “I know.  I can tell.  That was last Christmas, Darce.  We will be fixing this after dinner tomorrow.”

“Fine, fine.”  They both looked up at the sound of their mother calling them to dinner.  Nick stood and turned to offer Darcy a hand.  “By the way, did you _have_ to claim the potatoes again?”

“Of course,” he stated.  “I make the best mashed potatoes.”

“So you say, but when you hog all the holidays _how will we ever know differently?”_

“Did Mom tell you Allie’s gone gluten-free?”

“Nooo...” Darcy thumbed through her mental recipe box.  She made a pumpkin pie at her father’s behest every year, but Alex wouldn’t be able to eat that.  “I could do a gluten-free pumpkin cheesecake if I left off the crust, I think.”

Nick shot her a look as they walked.  “You realize if the situations were reversed, Alex would never think to do that for you.”

Of all of her siblings, Darcy was the least close with Alex.  They were actually nearest in age, but their personalities couldn’t have been more different.  It probably hadn’t helped that they’d shared a bedroom until high school.

Still, Darcy shrugged.  “No one should go without dessert on Thanksgiving.”

The next day, the family gathered early.  Darcy’s mom came from the school of thought that said that “dinner” on a holiday referred to a big, midday meal.  This had apparently been a source of some contention in the early years of her marriage to Darcy’s dad, but they’d settled it by the time Darcy had made her appearance.  So, they cooked from early in the morning, ate in the afternoon, and then watched football and yelled good-naturedly at one another for the rest of the day.  It was the Lewis Way.

Darcy’s vegetable side dish was her famous (amongst the 6 members of her family + Peter) brussel sprouts and pancetta.  She’d made the cheesecake the night before (and was gratified when her sister had sincerely thanked her for thinking to do it), and the pie she could whip up in her sleep.

While everything was baking, Darcy, Sarah, and their dad had gone into the backyard so Darcy could show off her mad archery skills.  She was actually better with the bow than Sarah (not surprising considering the practice she’d put into it, but Darcy always thought of her athletic sister--who literally fought fires for a living--as being superior at everything physical).  She would be crowing over her victory for years to come.

Her dad had watched them in silence and then, when Darcy had landed an arrow _thisclose_ to the bullseye on the target she’d brought, had casually asked “So what is it you do for these scientists?”

“Oh, you know.  I take notes.  Collate files.  Make coffee.  That sort of thing.”

Cal Lewis raised a brow.  “And you decided to take up archery while doing these things?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, deliberately flippant.  “It’s a think tank sort of setup.  They’ve got a gym.  It’s a...you know...campus.”

“Like Google?”  Sarah asked.

Darcy latched onto that.  “Like Google!”

Sarah looked impressed.  "They let you do your laundry there, too?”

“Yes,” Darcy answered truthfully.  “Yes, they do.”

“Sweet deal.”

Her dad was less easily won over.  Fortunately, a lifetime of being the youngest meant that she could repeat “That’s classified.  Also classified.  Still classified.  Classified” ad nauseum and not even really be irritated by it.

Dinner was fantastic, even if the traditional go-around-the-room-and-say-what-you’re-thankful-for Darcy’s mom insisted on included her dad saying he was thankful for children who were honest and forthcoming with him, and Darcy saying she was thankful for parents who trusted her to know what she was doing in her own freaking life.  Jamie’s boyfriend Peter had beamed at them both.  “This is why I come here for Thanksgiving,” he said, sincerely.  The two men had successfully deep fried their turkey, which meant there was no fire for Sarah to put out (“On my day off, no less”) and also there were two turkeys.

After dessert, most of the family moved into the living room to watch football.  Nick ordered Darcy into the backyard for her haircut.  She was setting up a chair when a noise caught her attention.  She scoped out the yard, but nothing moved.  “Huh.”

She was turning back to the house to call for Nick when she heard another sound.  She whirled back, just as a black-clad figure dropped out of the big tree.  Without even thinking, she scooped up her bow, notched the arrow that had been laying next to it, and fired.

She got him in the leg.

He screamed.

“Seriously, dude?  On Thanksgiving?” she yelled as he grasped his leg.  He fell sideways, still screaming, but she notched another arrow, just in case.

She heard the back door slam open behind her.  “Darcy, what the _fuck?”_ Nick demanded.

Two other ninja-types dropped out of the trees.

“Now would be a _really good time for you to make an appearance, Clark,”_ Darcy shouted, firing off an arrow that went wide of the mark.  She grabbed another.

“What?” Nick shouted, his voice escalating in pitch. _“What?”_

Just then, Clark appeared, and Darcy immediately took back every uncharitable thing she’d thought about the woman as she vaulted over the back fence, tackling one of the ninjas.

“Get inside,” Darcy shouted over her shoulder at Nick.

He shot her an incredulous look.  “You first.”

Clark had a ninja in a headlock when the one she’d tackled stood up.  Darcy shot him in the shoulder.  Clark dropped her ninja, looked at Darcy’s work, then back at her.  For the first time since they’d met, her face registered an expression.  It was somewhere between amused and impressed.  “Arrows?”

Darcy shrugged.  “Barton.”  Clark rolled her eyes in understanding.

 _“What?”_ Nick demanded again.  

Darcy’s dad shoved open the door and shouldered past his son.  He took in the yard.  “Who were they?  Who are _you?”_ he asked Clark.  And then, “Scientists?   _Think tank?”_

Darcy tried a smile.  “Technically, all of that was true.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys I did so much research on gluten-free cheesecake.
> 
> Making Darcy the youngest of a large family seemed like a great idea until I accidentally tricked myself into having to write about them. True story: in the first draft of this chapter, I forgot a sister entirely. (If you're curious, it goes, oldest->youngest: Sean (deceased), Sarah, Nick, Jamie, Alex, Darcy.)
> 
> And yes, that's a Dummy model on cat food duty. Fingers crossed Mjolnir forms an unbreakable bond with it because that would be _adorable._


	21. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some truths are revealed.

Clark was, of course, invited in for pie.  Darcy had hesitated, glancing back at the bleeding bodies in her backyard, but Clark had tapped her ear, indicating that it had been called in.

They crowded awkwardly into the kitchen.  Darcy’s parents sat at the table, and Darcy cut a slice of pumpkin pie for Clark.  The agent tasted a bite, nodded, and said “That’s good.”

Finally, her parents got tired of waiting.  “Well?”  Cal asked.  Darcy glanced at Clark, who shrugged as if to say “You’re on your own, friend.”

Darcy cleared her throat.  “I didn’t lie to you.  Not really.  I am working for Jane.  Dr. Foster.  We are technically employed by Stark Industries.”

“Oh!” Jocelyn said in relief at hearing a recognizable name.

Cal sat back in his chair.  “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Darcy looked at each of her family members in turn.  They were a level-headed lot.  They probably wouldn’t freak out.  “Because we don’t work for Stark.  At least not in a...conventional sense.  You know the group that fought off the aliens in New York back in May?”  No one responded.  She assumed she could take that as a yes.  “That’s who I work with.”

Nick responded first.  “You work with Captain America?”  He wasn’t a comics nut like she and Sean had been, but he’d shared her admiration of their older sibling.  He knew what that connection meant to her.

She smiled a little.  “Yeah, I do.”

“Doing _what?”_  Alex asked.  “You majored in poli-sci.”

“Doing just what I said.  I’m Jane’s lab assistant.”  The answer did nothing to mitigate her sister’s baffled expression.  “It’s unconventional.”

“So unconventional that people are trying to kill you?”  Her father was glowering at her.

“I mean, not at first.  And besides, it’s not _me_ they want, it’s--”

“That’s enough, Miss Lewis.  I believe I can take it from here,” spoke a familiar voice from the door.

Darcy’s view was blocked by the tall figures of Sarah and Peter, but as they stepped to the side, she felt the floor drop out from under her.   _“You.”_

Agent Coulson smiled, not unkindly.  “Yes.”

“But you--they told me--”

“Would you care to step outside for a moment?” he asked, but Darcy understood that it wasn’t a request.  “Agent Clark can handle the explanations,” he casually threw his colleague under the angry Lewis family bus.  Darcy crossed the kitchen.

“That’s the nice man who came to Darcy’s graduation,” she heard her mother say.

They stepped into the backyard, which was already empty of bodies and agents.  The blood Darcy had spilled had vanished, absorbed by the cold ground.

She spun to face him.  “I mourned you, you jerk,” she started angrily, but stopped short when she saw him place a steadying hand on the back of a chair.  “Are you okay?”

He chuckled.  “Getting there.”

“So, you were really hurt, huh?”

“Yeah, he got me good.”  Darcy didn’t ask who “he” was.  She thought she probably didn’t want to know.

“Do the others know?”

He shot her a look, and she thought yeah, he’s still the Suit.  He seemed to weigh the wisdom of answering, but he finally spoke.  “Romanoff and Barton do.”

“For how long?” she demanded.

“This mission.  Not before.”

That was acceptable.  “Okay.  Can I tell Jane and the rest?”

He winced a little.  “We’d rather you didn’t.”  At her look, he elaborated.  “The Director and I.”

“Oh, right.  The Almighty Fury.”

“How did you--of course.  You’ve been playing sleepover party with the bunch of them.  By the way: _why?”_

Darcy shrugged.  “Jane needed me.  I didn’t realize it would become...what it has.”

“There have been threats,” he stated.

“So I gathered,” she responded dryly.

There was a short pause.  “How are they doing?”

Darcy thought for a moment that he meant the ninjas she’d shot, then made the connection.  He actually cared about the team.  “They’re okay, I think.  I mean, I didn’t know them before, you know?  But they’ve been training, and I gather that Bruce and the Other Guy have made some progress."

He nodded.

"We do movie nights sometimes," she threw in.  "It's fun."

Coulson continued to gaze at the backyard.  "Fun."

Darcy shrugged.  "I mean...yeah.  No sign of Stark,” she added.

“Really.”  He sounded mildly troubled by that, much as Natasha had been when Steve had shown up at the house alone.

“Steve, Bruce, and Jane are there now.  Investigating.  Doing science.”

“You don’t have to go back, you know.  We can get you set up somewhere else.  Somewhere safe,” he said, nodding to the yard.

She turned to face him.  “Is that why you came here?”   _When you clearly should still be in rehab somewhere,_ she thought but didn’t add.  “To offer me an out?”

“Something like that.  Or to renew my earlier offer to work at S.H.I.E.L.D., since you clearly know more than we’d like.”

“I promise not to use it for evil.  And no, I’m not leaving.  It’s crazy, but I like it there.  Plus, I promised Jane I’d help her get her interdimensional god-alien boyfriend back.”

Coulson briefly closed his eyes.  “That’s the sort of thing we rather you didn’t say in public.”

“You’re not the public.  You’re not even alive.  I do not envy you _that_ conversation, by the way.”

“It was necessary,” he said.  “And also, I was pretty dead.”

“That’s good.  I’ll never get that bottle of scotch back, but at least you were _mostly_ dead.”  He swallowed a smirk, and _man_ it was good to see his face again.

“We should go back in,” he said with a glance at the house.  "Clark should be wrapping up in there."

She nodded.  Her gaze fell on the backyard again.  “I didn’t kill anyone, did I?  No major arteries hit?”

“Flesh wounds only.”

Darcy knew he’d have no compunction with lying to her about it, but she chose to trust his word.  “That’s good.  Clint actually taught me something useful.  I am never going to hear the end of it.”  She reached for the back door.

“Lewis.  Do you honestly believe that you’re making the best use of your skills where you are?”

She wasn’t sure what he meant by “skills” (she was pretty sure it wasn’t “snark and a general disregard for authority”), but she answered him the only way she could.  “I do.”

He searched her face, then nodded sharply.  “Good.”

“Am I still staying through Monday?”

“Your plans are unchanged.”

“Well,” she said wryly, “at least something is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's that guy! I remember that guy.
> 
> Folks, I am _so_ sorry for the delay in updates. The hiatus was unintentional, I assure you--I especially didn't mean to leave you on a cliff-hanger! The truth is, I got a rad new job at my local comic shop! Which is great, but I still have my old job peeling avocados, so my free time has basically vanished and what little remains has been filled with reading every single comic ever written. That sounds like an exaggeration. It really is not. I have not abandoned this story, and nor do I intend to, but updates are going to slow waaaaay down. It bums me out a bunch (I miss writing! A lot!), but life is what happens when we're busy writing fanfiction, am I right? Right?
> 
> I haven't had a chance to respond to most of the recent comments, but I've read every one and I cannot tell y'all what it has meant to me knowing that you were still reading and loving this story while I was away from it. You are the best readers anyone has ever had and if you think I am mistaken, I have a little friend I'd like to introduce to your face (it's an avocado).


	22. Jet Plane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy shouts at spies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::waves::

Darcy wasn't sure what Clark told her family, but whatever it was it was either convincing or frightening enough that they actually backed off and she was able to enjoy the rest of her vacation.  And she had enjoyed it, really enjoyed it, for the first time in years.  Historically, the family dispersed after Thanksgiving Day, leaving Darcy to her own devices.  She'd never been particularly hurt by it.  Getting left out was sort of the name of the game when you were the youngest, and, like she'd told Bruce, they were a busy group.

This year had been different.  Alex, Jamie, and her mom had demanded impromptu archery lessons, resulting in so many holes in the back fence that Darcy’s dad would be bitching about it for years.  But they’d all had a good time.

Rather than attempt the backyard haircut again, Nick had taken her to his salon, like she was an actual paying customer.  She was excited about the outing until she realized that it had mostly been an attempt on Nick’s part to get Clark (somewhat) alone.   _I’m sorry,_ Darcy mouthed to Clark in the mirror when Nick had his back turned.  The agent shrugged. _He’s cute,_ she mouthed back.

Darcy couldn't decide if getting a sister-in-law in S.H.I.E.L.D. would make her current situation better or worse.  Clark had rolled her eyes at the mention of Clint, so that was a plus.  Still, her brother was generally charming and Clark was being gracious about the fact that she was a secret agent and totally out of his league.  And Darcy’s hair turned out _so_ cute.

She had a movie night with her sisters, which was mostly enjoyable because she and Sarah tricked Alex into watching _Star Trek_ by telling her it was a romantic comedy.  While not strictly the case, it did have both romance and comedy in it, and after her initial protests (“That’s not what ‘romantic comedy’ means, you morons”) she stuck it out for Chris Pine and his starship full of cuties.

Jamie took a rare day off from his studies, and they toured the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where Peter was an archivist.  He joined them for lunch.  Jamie and Peter had been together since high school, so he was pretty much just another brother to Darcy.  He actually looked more like a Lewis than Jamie, as he was tall and broad-shouldered, and Jamie was the only skinny one of the bunch (Alex was short and curvy like Darcy).

All ninjas aside, it was about the most enjoyable family gathering Darcy could remember.  Apparently growing up and spilling blood in the backyard of your childhood home just made sibling relationships better.  Her parents drove her to the airport on Monday.  They were quiet in the car, but when they arrived, her mom wrapped her up in a tight embrace.

“I wasn't sure about you leaving Washington when you first told us, Darcy.  But seeing you this weekend--you look better.  Happier.  We so enjoyed having you here, dear.   _All_ of us.”

Darcy’s dad unloaded her bag from the car, then also pulled her into a hug.  “I’m worried about you, Darcy.”  He cracked a smile.  “But then, I’m always worried about you.  My little girl, getting by in the world on your wits and your smart mouth.  You can thank you mother for that one.”

“Oh, Cal,” her mother said, smacking him lightly on the arm.

“It’s good to know that you can defend yourself.  And that you've got friends.  I don’t know about those ‘heroes’...but I guess you wouldn’t listen if I told you to stay away from them, anyway.”

“Nope,” Darcy said cheerfully.  “I know the situation is weird--I’m still wrapping my head around it--but they’re good people.  I’m safe with them.”

“Even the big green fella?”

Darcy smiled.  “Believe it or not, I think especially with him.”

A throat was cleared behind them, and the family turned to face Clark.

“Oh, hey Clark.  Time to go?”  

The agent nodded.

“Okay.”  Darcy hugged her dad, then her mom, once more.  “I’ll let you know about Christmas, okay?”

“Okay.  We love you, honey.  Be safe,” her mother said.

“Keep practicing your aim,” her father said.

Darcy grabbed her bags and followed Clark into the terminal.  “Please don’t tell Clint that his stupid project saved my life _and_ got the endorsement of my entire family,” she begged.

Clark cracked a tiny smile--about all she seemed capable of--and shook her head.  “No promises.”

They entered the terminal, but rather than heading towards the check-in, Clark led them through an unmarked door.  They passed through a much smaller security check-point, then continued through the bowels of the airport.

“Something tells me I won’t be taking the flight that’s on my ticket,” Darcy observed.

“There was a small change,” Clark said in a typical understatement.

They entered a smallish hanger.  It was open to the tarmac, and Darcy could see the fancy jet sitting outside.  A familiar figure stood next to the stairs leading into the jet.

“I thought he was supposed to be resting.”  Clark gave a soft snort, and Darcy looked at her in shock.  “My god, that was almost a laugh.”

The agent ignored her comment, speaking quickly as they approached the jet.  “I’ll leave you here.  Good luck, Lewis.”

Darcy shook Clark’s proffered hand.  “Thank you.  It was nice meeting you,” she said, and realized with mild surprise that she meant it.

“Clark,” Coulson said.

“Sir,” the agent nodded, then headed back in the direction of the airport.

“Can you even handle those stairs?” Darcy asked him.

He let that slide, gesturing for her to precede him up the steps.  She did, not glancing back to mark his progress.  It took him a bit longer than it would have before he mostly died, but he made it.  In the jet, she discovered that she was not the only passenger.

“Hey, guys.”

She settled in a plush seat across from Natasha, who nodded in greeting.  She looked put-together and perfect as always, in stark juxtaposition with Clint, who was in the seat next to her, apparently passed out.  His face was half-pressed to the window, but Darcy could make out the white plaster across his nose.

“If I’d known you were going to be here, I would have brought leftover pie,” Darcy said.

“Pie?” Clint stirred sluggishly in his seat.

“No,” Natasha shushed him, patting him briefly on the hand.  Which was apparently sufficient, as he went still again.

“Sorry,” Darcy said at a lower volume.  “Is he okay?”

“Fine.”  Natasha’s voice was short, but her expression was sympathetic.

“So,” Darcy began, once Coulson had settled across the aisle, “thanks for arranging for me to be ninja bait at my family gathering.  That was swell.”

“Not ninjas,” Clint mumbled to the window.

“Well, they fell out of trees and they didn't look much like squirrels.  Which is besides the point.”  Darcy shifted in her chair so she was facing Coulson.  ”I wondered how it was you got to my house so fast on Thursday, but I was too busy being stunned at your aliveness to put it together.”

“How long did it take you?”  He asked, in lieu of an apology (not that she’d expected one).

“It was a middle of the night revelation.”  She’d woken Nick in the next room with her sudden exclamation of _Son of a BITCH_.  “And not a particularly fun one.  So.”  She crossed her legs, looking first at Coulson, then at Natasha.  “Who’s genius idea was it?”

Natasha crossed her arms.  “Mine.”

Coulson shot her a look.  “It was a joint effort.  You and Dr. Foster have been hiding too well.”

“We needed to lure them back into the open,” Natasha added, unapologetically.  “Your request presented an opportunity.”

“An opportunity to aim ninjas at a house of civilians,” Darcy snapped.  “Yes, well done.”

“I gave you a bow,” Clint mumbled.  If she hadn't been so infuriated, she might have been impressed at his ability to take part in a conversation while unconscious.

“You were never in any danger,” Coulson said.

She felt the rage that she’d fought back since the midnight epiphany bubbling in her chest.  “That’s a lie, and what’s worse is you know it.  Look, use me as bait all you want.  I’m the Zeppo in a house of superpowered Marx brothers, I figure that’s what I signed on for.  But you leave my family the _fuck_ out of it.”  She couldn't take the spies’ continued impassive expressions, so she shoved to her feet and stalked to the far side of the aircraft, taking her carry-on with her.  “And I’m keeping the damn bow.”

Now that she’d had a chance to voice the rage, she wanted to stew in it for a while.  She settled into a seat far from the rest of the group, then pulled noise-cancelling headphones and her iPod out of her bag.  She flipped through her music.  If she’d had access to JARVIS, and thus Tony’s ridiculous collection of scream metal, she might’ve listened to something _really_ angry.  As it was, she settled for the Beastie Boys.  She’d scowled her way through “[Sabotage](http://youtu.be/z5rRZdiu1UE)” when Coulson moved awkwardly across the plane to join her.

He looked at her expectantly, and she let the moment drag out.  She could only take her own adolescent behavior for so long, however, and soon pulled her headphones off.

“It was a bad plan,” he told her plainly.

“Yeah, it was.  I honestly expected more of you.”

He looked away from her for a moment, and she got the sense that it hadn't been his call, that he was now cleaning up after someone else’s screw-up.  But he didn't point any fingers, so she didn't say anything.  “You handled yourself well.”

“I got lucky.”  Once the rush of battle had faded, she had put her own actions under scrutiny.  She’d hit two of them, but they’d been close and she hadn't aimed with anything close to the degree of accuracy she should have.  It was a miracle she hadn't hit Clark.  It was a miracle she’d hit _anything_.

“Maybe,” Coulson said.  “Now you know how it feels.”  To be in the midst of a fight, he meant.  To have to make split second life-or-death decisions.

“That’s not what I want, Coulson.  Just let me be the Zeppo.  I’m good at it.”

“That might not be a choice you have anymore, Darcy.”

She let her head fall back on the cushioned headrest.  “I just want to go home.”

He gave her a knowing look.  “Back to Pennsylvania?”

No, she realized.  That wasn't what she’d meant.  For better or worse, home was someplace different now.  Without answering him, she pulled her headphones back on and lost herself in the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Hello. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I hope my writing is worth your patience. It's been a while since I've been really happy with something I've written, but I miss this pack of dorks, so I'm giving it a go, anyways. I cannot tell you how much it's meant to me to keep getting comments on this story over the past year. It's been amazing, you all have been amazing. Thank you.


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